Twin Dilemma
by narrazione
Summary: DEADLIEST CATCH: When best-selling author Reilly Griffin moves to Dutch Harbor, AK to reunite with her twin sister Sarah, neither one has any idea what this tiny town on the verge of the king crab season has in store for them. And the crew of the Time Bandit could never see how two girls with haunted pasts would change the boat forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Between injuring my wrist (curse you, flag football!) and going on vacation to Ireland (which took more time to plan than the actual trip!) I haven't written in SO LONG. Gotta say, though, this new season has inspired me like no other. I must have three or four unfinished DC stories just sitting around collecting virtual dust, but this one started screaming at me the other day. It's nowhere near done, so if posts are a bit far between, I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for that now. I'm just pumped to have so much written and figured out! Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

Scott Hillstrand shuffled his feet anxiously as he waited for his bag to drop down the conveyor belt. Didn't these people know he was already reporting for work a day late because of the stupid snowstorm that left him stranded in Seattle overnight? His dad and uncle probably had a murderous prank prepared for him even though they insisted they understood when he called them with the news.

"Goddamn," he swore when the next bag through the shoot was not his. A fisherman he recognized from one of the smaller vessels claimed the bag and rejoined another crabber who was also waiting. It seemed that every damn Dutch Harbor crabber was on this tiny flight to Unalaska, and he had to pay because of it.

One by one, men grabbed their duffels and suitcases from the conveyor belt, but Scott's never rolled down. When an eager-looking young man, probably a greenhorn by the looks of him, grabbed his black bag and hurried away, Scotty swore. That was it for the bags apparently, but his was not there. Because of the delay in his flight to Anchorage, he had to hurry for his Dutch Harbor flight and had only minutes to spare. His bags must not have made the connection.

"Are you shitting me?"

Scotty whirled around at the voice, unaware that he had company. Maybe three or four yards away from him stood a young woman he recognized from his flight to Anchorage. How could he not remember this girl with the pin-straight fiery red ponytail and the rings all over her fingers and the tell-tale sparkle of a nose stud? She was the only person he ever saw fly in heeled boots, which he imagined must have been a pain to deal with in security. The flight had certainly taken its toll on her, though; the once-sleek ponytail had fly-aways from sleeping in a funny position, her emerald eye shadow was starting to fade, and she must have thrown on a hoodie to deal with the cold because even Scotty's limited experience with fashion could tell that those boots and skinny jeans, an excellent combination ass-wise if he had any right to an opinion, didn't seem to go with her well-worn, oversized Old Navy hoodie.

"Where's my shit? Goddamn it!"

He must have stared too long, because a pair of agitated cerulean eyes snapped towards him. They stood in a stare-down long enough for Scott to feel uncomfortable under her narrow-eyed, tight-jawed study of him. Then again, he realized that she probably felt pretty threatened having some random stranger gawk at her in the airport; no wonder she looked ready to attack. So, he broke their eye contact. The last thing he needed was to piss off the locals, which he determined she had to be. Why else would a pretty young woman fly in to Dutch Harbor just in time for winter?

"What the hell are you looking at?" she snapped.

"Nothing. Thought I heard someone say something, that's all," he shrugged. Yeah, definitely not the person he wanted to piss off.

"Sorry," she sighed, massaging her forehead. "I'm flipping out over here like a bitch. Rough week. They lose your bag, too?"

When Scott looked back at the girl, she offered a tiny smile that made her look friendly, not intimidating like her scowl had. "Yeah," he offered. "Short layover. My bag probably didn't make the connection. Hell, I almost didn't. I think we were on the same flight. From Anchorage?"

"We were," she confirmed. After an awkward pause while they both absorbed the fact that the other had noticed them on the plane, she slung her military-style canvas backpack over her shoulder, cleared the space between them, and offered her hand. "Reilly Griffin."

"Scotty Hillstrand." He shook her hand and flashed the smile he normally only used for the fans. It seemed that he was always ready to make a good impression on people because of that show, and he immediately hated how fake his face felt. He'd never smiled that way before Discovery Channel entered his life.

"Well, Scotty Hillstrand, I guess I'll see ya' around." She let go of his hand and pulled her phone out of her pocket as she turned to leave.

"Woah, wait," Scotty grabbed her arm to stop her, but immediately realized that was a bad idea. As soon as his fingers tightened on her forearm, Reilly whirled around on him and cocked her free arm back, fingers curled into a fist. When he let go and held up his hands to show he meant no harm, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a quick, concentrated sigh to get rid of whatever thought rushed through her, and he figured that it was best not to bring up the fact that she nearly punched him. Something told him she would not hesitate to finish the job if he gave her a reason. "What about your bags?"

"Well, yeah, that's where I'm going. I've got…" she checked her phone, "precious few moments to figure out what flight they put my bags on before my sister calls to whine about waiting in the cold."

"You make it sound like you've done this before. D'you lose your luggage a lot?" Scotty asked, trailing after her as she made her way towards the front desk of the airport. As someone whose bags had never been lost, he figured following her lead was probably his best bet in this situation.

She tilted her head back and laughed heartily at the joke Scotty didn't know he made. "Apologies," she grinned, covering her mouth with her hand to calm herself. "I'm sorry. That wasn't…I wasn't laughing at you. It's just that I've gone through every travel nightmare you can think of. Lost baggage is…" she waved her hand and a giggle escaped. "It's nothing. C'mon, the quicker we get this sorted, the quicker we can be on our respective ways."

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"We-ell, look who decided to get their ass to Dutch Harbor!"

"Shove it up your ass, Fourtner." Scotty rolled his eyes and jumped the rail onto the Time Bandit. The crew was already hard at work prepping the boat for the season, and he wanted to jump right in and help them. But, travelling the world as a Hillstrand meant that life threw only the strangest challenges his way, and he climbed into the wheelhouse as the crew went back to taunting each other instead of him.

Just as he opened the door to go inside, a cowboy hat whizzed by his nose, thrown Frisbee-style by his uncle to his father. Ah, yes, it was good to be back on the Time Bandit. Things like this just did not happen on land. John ducked down to catch the hat on his head, but succeeded only in tipping the brim so the hat flipped in the air and fell to the ground inches behind him.

"Ah-_ha_!" Andy threw his fists in the air proudly. "Who's your daddy, Johnaroo?"

"Two out of three," John insisted, grabbing the hat from the floor. Before he could throw it, Scott rapped his knuckles against the wall to get his captains' attention. "Hey, hey! You finally made it!"

Scott took hugs from both his uncle and his dad before dropping his carry-on to the floor. "Yeah, but I've kinda got a thing."

"What kind of thing?" Andy asked sharply, the hat game forgotten about. All right, that probably was not the best choice of words he could come up with to explain his luggage situation; he could tell by the look on Johnathan's face that they assumed the worst. Maybe something with Sawyer, he couldn't go out this season, Tae was sick, whatever.

"Nothing bad," he assured them as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "The fucking airport screwed a bunch of shit over, so my bags are coming up on this flight tonight. I'm gonna have to bail out early on the Elbow Room to go pick it up."

"Sucks for you, son!" John shrugged. "Wanna hear some good news?"

"I'd love some good news right now. What's up?"

"Since you put all your gear on the boat before we drove it up here, you can still go suit up and help the boys stack pots! Don't you feel lucky?"

Scotty groaned. Yup, sure was good to be back fishing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, just a few things I forgot to mention last chapter. First off, I'm going to mention a character I used in my first story (Where I'm Not Wanted), Chris. If you didn't read that story and don't really want to (note: if you do want to read it, this is gonna spoil that story!), all you need to know is that she's the producer on the Time Bandit and dating Andy Hillstrand. She'll come up later. Also, I mostly rate my stories M for language (I swear about as bad as these crabbers do!), although this may get a little steamy later on. **

**And, of course, the obvious disclaimer. I don't own Deadliest Catch and have no affiliation to it whatsoever. That's all Discovery Channel's dealio. I'm just writing a story; Chris and Sarah and Reilly (and Barkley!) are my creations, but if you've seen it on the show, then I clearly didn't come up with it and will never claim to have! Whew! Now that that's out of the way…**

* * *

"Down, boy! _Down!_ Oh, Reils, I'm so sorry. He's not…I don't know what's gotten into Barkley since I moved. He's been such a handful up here!"

Reilly laughed at her flustered twin as the blonde frantically grabbed her English sheepdog by the collar to stop him from jumping on the newcomer again. "Don't worry about it, Sarah. It's been a long time since Barkley and I have made time for each other. Huh, Barkley?" She grinned at the dog, which offered a panting smile back at her and erupted into a happy _aa-rroof_. "Is there somewhere I can dump…well, my laptop, I guess?"

"Oh, yeah, upstairs. The room with the pink bed sheets is mine, the room with the computer desk will one day be my glorious home office, the one with the toilet is the bathroom, and whatever room is left is yours."

Reilly rolled her eyes. "I see circumstances haven't changed what a smartass you are."

Sarah offered their signature toothy, mischievous grin as Reilly headed upstairs. The first thing people noticed about the Griffin twins was that they might not look much alike and they might have vastly different interests, but the little things they did were practically identical. The way they smiled; the gleams in their blue eyes (Reilly's deep azure and Sarah's sky blue); how they raked their long slender fingers through their hair when they were stressed or upset; even their mutual fondness for ponytails and the color red tied them together. Ever since childhood, they could finish each other's sentences and know how the other felt without any words.

After all, they _were_ twins. Even if Reilly had perfectly straight ginger hair while the elder twin boasted thick honey-wheat curls. And maybe Reilly always had a fondness for the dramatic in her appearance, with skinny heels and dark jeans and form-fitting tops and leather jackets and smoky eyes; while Sarah preferred dresses with twirly skirts and cute little ballet flats and bows and charm bracelets and every shade of pink. You could clearly see that they were family in their heart-shaped faces and the slant of their button noses and their long, slender limbs. No one ever guessed that they were twins, though; sisters, but never twins. Not when Sarah preferred to bake and Reilly preferred to rebuild cars.

"Hey, Reils?" Sarah shouted up the stairs. "Can you go into the bathroom closet and grab a sponge? I need a new one down here."

"Right on, sister-o-mine," Reilly shouted back. At the sound of her voice, Barkley took off up the stairs, stumbling once in his excitement. Sarah chuckled at his enthusiasm and clicked on her cd player; the opening chords of a Lady Antebellum song filled the connected living room/kitchen, and she hummed happily to herself as she began unloading her dishwasher.

When Sarah moved to Dutch Harbor in June, life away from her sister drove her nuts. Sure, Reilly travelled all the time and kept them apart anyway, but this was different. _She_ had never been the one to leave. It was always Reilly going away; from summer camps to college across the country to remote towns halfway around the world, Reilly was the trailblazer. It shocked them both when Sarah agreed to buy this house sight-unseen. She had never been the unpredictable one. Spontaneous and impulsive and borderline idiotic always described Reilly, not her. Despite that, moving to Dutch Harbor, Alaska was hands-down the best decision she ever made.

She loved everything about this tiny little town, and she knew that Reilly would, too. She loved how the lady at the local bar gave her a free drink just for being new in town. She loved the weather-worn wood and the feel of the ocean breeze and the salty smell in the air. Every night, she walked along the docks to clear the past from the mind; the moonlight always seemed to reflect perfectly off of the water. People in town already knew her on sight and welcomed her as if she had been one of them since birth. When she mentioned that her sister was coming to stay with her, everyone got so excited to meet this Reilly that they heard so much about and saw so many pictures of. Everyone at the bakery, where she found a job before even divulging her pastry school training, added their personal touch to the chocolate _Welcome_ cake waiting for Reilly on the table. The people here were so freaking nice, and it made Sarah wonder why she wasted so much time living in New York City where everyone was cynical and suspicious and brusque.

"Your house is so _bright_," Reilly announced as she came back down the stairs. She tossed the sponge at Sarah, who caught it expertly and tossed it into the sink. "I feel like you live in a cloud."

"It's amazing what beiges and whites do. I must've spent two months cleaning and painting this place; it was so grimy when I got here."

"You did a good job. It looks great. Very…you. Oh!" Reilly broke into a grin at the sight of the heart-shaped cake on the table. "Is this for me?"

"Sure is! Everyone at the bakery added their little touch to it. Which explains the schizophrenic flower placement."

"They're everywhere," Reilly agreed. "But, hey, tell them all I said thanks a million. If it tastes half as good as it looks, I'll die of happiness right here in your kitchen."

Sarah grinned. "You can't die yet, Reils. I haven't had the chance to show you the town yet. C'mon, the cake can wait. I want to show you the cool places before they get swarmed tonight."

"Swarmed? With what, locusts?" Reilly raised her eyebrows. Sarah exaggerated her eye roll to show just how stupid she found the question, and it made both of them giggle to be bantering with each other again.

"No, dumbass, with _fishermen_. The town is called Dutch _Harbor_, after all. The crab season starts in a few weeks, and it's getting crazy around here already. Did you know they actually film some of these guys for one of those reality shows?"

"Like _Jersey Shore_ or something?" Reilly wrinkled her nose, and Sarah shrugged. Their limited pop culture exposure was another Griffin twin trait. In fact, Sarah only owned a television to keep up with a whopping three shows, and Reilly could not remember the last time she set foot in a movie theatre. Unless, of course, you counted the one charred remains of one gutted by a fire from her time in Missouri. "Weird."

"Right? But, yeah, there are camera guys and crabbers and shit all over the damn place. A girl can't even buy her own drink right now."

The redhead grinned. "Any hot prospects, sista?"

"Shut up," Sarah grumbled. "You know I don't get around much. I'm still trying to unpack."

"I'm just asking! Seems to me that fishermen are probably pretty built, right? It's worth looking in to. You at least have condoms somewhere, right?"

Sarah rolled her eyes again. "I'm terrible with the one night stand scenario, and you know how I am with relationships."

Reilly twisted an arm around her sister's waist and pulled the younger twin into a hug. Sarah sighed into her sister's embrace and buried her face in Reilly's shoulder, inhaling some of that familiar earthy scent that was uniquely Reilly – some combination of roses and fresh laundry and maybe a hint of sandalwood. While she preferred her cinnamon vanilla lotion, whatever Reilly wore always made her smile. If 'home' had a scent, Sarah knew that it smelled like Reilly. That could just be because she never quite felt at home unless her twin was around, though. It was hard to say.

"I know, sweetie," Reilly murmured as she stroked her sister's hair. "But you're up here now. And I'm here, too. Fresh start, yeah?"

Sarah pulled away to share a tiny smile with her sister. "Yeah."

"There's my Sister Sarah." Reilly allowed her smile to grow. "So…that means no condoms, right?"

"Lord above…" Sarah groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes. "No, I don't have any. You want to buy us a pack for emergencies, go for it."

"Oh, I will," Reilly assured. "They're going in the home office, too."

"Wait, what? Why there?"

"Now, you mentioned something about cool places," Reilly plowed on, ignoring her sister's gaping. "Does this town tour include a place where a girl can get a Bud?"

Sarah laughed. "You bet your fat ass it does. C'mon, let me show you the Elbow Room."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone reading! And big thanks to IrishCaptain and snoozie2105 for the reviews!**

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"Scotty Hillstrand, if you take one more step, I will beat you over the head with my camera!"

Scotty froze instead of climbing off the Time Bandit onto the dock. Christina Menden's voice, when used properly, had that effect. Even Andy, who was for once not on the brunt end of her violent threat, froze. Just to be safe. Andy Hillstrand never could tell what tiny action would set his girlfriend, and producer, on him. She was hardly ever violent at home, but as soon as her feet hit Alaskan sod, the former Coastie got downright murderous.

"I didn't do anything, Aunt Chris, I swear."

"We're filming at the Elbow Room. I need you miked up. You know that."

Scotty rolled his eyes. She should know by now that he never put his microphone on. He hated that damn thing; it was just another way the show kept him on a tight leash. The people that watched Deadliest Catch had no idea what the guys were really like with each other even with all this "behind the scenes" shit, so why even bother? Before the show came, even something as heart-wrenching as your wife leaving you for another guy was fair game for mocking. Nothing was sacred. But, with outsiders and cameras and fucking microphones, a silent agreement spread throughout the crab fleet to tone down their normal banter. For the sakes of the grandmothers and little kids that now idolized them, the teasing went from a ten to a six on the scale, and he missed the old days.

There were all those fans, though, that loved him for whatever weird reason, and he couldn't let them down by being the douche bag he was once allowed to be. He didn't really see what the big deal was. Whenever a fan squealed with excitement over seeing him, it freaked him out. Who the hell was he, anyway? Just another blue collar guy trying to make a living for his family even though they seemed to need him less and less. His story was no different than the thousands of truck drivers, construction workers, and who-knows-what-else that shared it.

"Whatever," he sighed. Their producer knew him well enough after all these seasons to catch him in the act; there was no fooling that woman anymore. He lifted his shirt so she could slip the wire underneath and clip the mike to his collar. When Chris shoved the battery pack in his back pocket, he wolf whistled at her, and Chris slapped his back in retaliation.

"Watch it, Scotty," Andy warned. "She's way too much woman for ya'."

"Gee, thanks for defending my honor, babe," she muttered as she flipped the microphone on. "There. All set."

"Can I get a fucking drink now?"

"You can get a fucking drink now," she confirmed.

Scotty pulled his long sleeve shirt back down over the cord of the microphone, rezipped his hoodie, and finally made it over the rail. It was a relief to be done with the day's work. After his luggage fiasco, he really could use a drink or five. Plus, it was way too long since the last time everyone gathered together. Even though the Time Bandit crew grabbed a table all together, guys from every boat filled the Elbow Room that night.

Scotty always felt like he stepped into a different life when he landed in Dutch Harbor. Back in Seattle, he was a dad, looking after Sawyer and pretending that he did not have to give his son back to his ex-wife and her effing perfect fiancé before leaving for the season. He watched his swearing, drank maybe two beers a month, barely smoked, and hardly ever went out at night so he could be the best dad he could in the short time he was home. Then, he came up here. And he smoked his way through a pack of cigarettes as he worked while wishing he was at the bar getting shit-faced with the guys. Different worlds. He needed them both, but, as John ordered the crew another round of shots, he wished he didn't. There used to be a time when he had something to ground him; Rebecca used to show him that crabbing was just a job, just a way to pay the bills. As he rediscovered how important his birth family was, though, he stopped thinking that way about it. Crabbing became a way of life. So, now she was gone. He had the fucked up life he always insisted he would never have. A damn good job, a hell of a lot of respect, a son that barely saw him, and love that long ago faded away.

"_OhmyGod!_" Chris exclaimed, yanking Scotty from his thoughts. Chris threw her hands over her mouth, but she could not hide her huge eyes as she stared at the girl who just entered the Elbow Room. "No fucking way!"

"No fucking way what?" Andy frowned as the Time Bandit crew blatantly turned to gawk at the young woman from the airport. Scotty squeezed his eyes shut and downed his shot; could they be any more obvious with their staring? Could they not tell from those stiletto boots and tight black jeans and the leather jacket that she would kick all their asses _after_ she drank them under the table? Christ, he only spoke to her once, but something about the ginger scared him. The blonde woman with her looked much less intimidating in her dark blue knee-length dress with the little white flowers dotting it, grey leggings, flat brown boots, and grey waist-length cardigan. That was the kind of woman you could stare at in a bar; he could tell she was the type to assume you were looking at something over her shoulder or next to her. Not the type to realize stares were directed at her. Reilly Griffin, though, would feel the eyes on her and not take too kindly to it.

"You know who that is." Andy shook his head. "You don't know who that is? _Andy_." Their producer slapped Andy's shoulder as if he needed to be punished for stupidity that the entire crew suffered from.

"Reilly Griffin," Scott supplied, and Chris pointed at him happily.

"Thank you! I knew there was one smart Hillstrand man!"

"Woah, let's not take it that far," Eddie Sr. reminded her. "Who the hell is Reilly Griffin?"

Chris rolled her eyes. "I'm surrounded," she grumbled. "Reilly Griffin is only the best author _ever_. I mean, she's had, like, seven New York Times best-sellers, maybe more? I've got all of her books at home. She's amazing. She's, like, she's a goddess with words."

"She's a goddess, all right," John nodded. The men found this comment worth laughing at, but Chris ignored it and plowed on.

"Haven't you ever heard of _Small Town Stories_?"

Andy wrinkled his nose. "No-oo. Should I?"

"Tch, _yes_. She visits these crazy out-of-the-way towns in, like, bumfuck nowhere and lives there for an ungodly amount of time so the locals get used to her, right? And she collects their stories and changes the peoples' names and compiles them into these books. She gives voices to these people, Andy, who the world would never even think about otherwise. That woman over there that you're all staring at like she's a fucking porterhouse," Scotty laughed at that but no one seemed to notice, "has shed light on all kinds of problems. Healthcare issues, damage from fracking, poverty, gang violence, homophobia, all of it; and she's not only heard about it, she's lived through most of it. What she does is amazing."

"You totally have a girl crush, don't you?" Andy grinned. Chris rolled her eyes and shoved him away.

Johnathan let out his hacking laugh. "You do. You totally have a girl crush. If you got drunk enough, you would do her."

"Oh my God," she groaned. "Sure, fine, I'd do her. Happy?" John grinned wickedly.

The conversation seemed to have lost its appeal at that point as it devolved into their usual banter, so Scott let his attention drift to Reilly, who seemed right at home on a barstool next to Wild Bill. She happily took a drink of her beer as Bill said something that made her smile coyly. Over the Kodiak captain's shoulder, she caught Scotty's eye and raised her bottle in a cheers-style greeting. Scotty tipped his glass back before Bill took her attention away with a question she answered very briefly. The motion, however, did not go unnoticed.

"Fuck you, Scotty!" Chris exclaimed, chucking an ice cube at his face.

"What the hell was that for?" he grunted, unable to dodge. Why could he never go out with his boat family without getting an ice cube to the face?

"You _know_ her! Why the hell didn't you say you actually know her?"

"Yeah, especially knowing how hot Chris gets for her." Mike and John elbowed each other immaturely as they erupted into a fresh round of laughter.

Ignoring them, Scotty signaled for another shot. "I don't know her really. We met at the airport, that's all."

"Is she writing her next book here?"

"Dunno. We met _at the airport._" He knew, of course, that this point meant absolutely nothing anymore; he was now expected to be the expert on Reilly Griffin because they exchanged three words. "She said something about her sister, so I don't think so. I think it's a family thing."

"Oh," Chris deflated. "Well, that's cool, I guess."

Scotty finally laughed at her expense. "You totally just died inside, didn't you?"

"Don't you fucking start with me, Scotty. You're the one that's always on my side!"

"Not tonight!" he grinned. "Your little lesbian thing is fucking funny."

"Don't look now, Chrissy, but she's coming this way." Andy slung an arm over his girlfriend's shoulder as she froze in panic. "I wouldn't worry. It's probably not because of you."

"Maybe she has the hots for you, huh, Scott?" Mike grinned, tipping his glass at the youngest Hillstrand. Had an ice cube been handy, Fourtner would have absolutely taken one to the face, but there was neither the time nor the resources for that as Reilly slid up to the table.

"Hey, Reilly," Scott nodded. "Is it that time?"

"It is," she agreed. "But, I'm sure we have three seconds for you to introduce me."

"Yeah, Scotty, _introduce_ the lady!" John grinned mischievously, and Scotty suppressed a groan. His family could be so fucking embarrassing sometimes. Weren't they supposed to grow out of this somewhere around age twelve?

"Reilly, these are the guys from the boat. Eddie Sr., Eddie Jr., my dad John, Aunt Chris, Uncle Andy, Travis, and Mike. Everyone, this is Reilly, whose bags also got ditched with mine when we flew up here."

Reilly flashed a smile that Scotty could just imagine her giving a thousand times a day at one of those fancy book signings. Big and bright and never quite reaching her eyes. He had smiled the same way a million times. "Hi, everyone!" She gave a small wave. "Hate to steal your boy away here, but I bummed us a ride to the airport, and my sister will leave without us both if we don't skedaddle."

"Skedaddle?" Scotty raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Seriously?"

"Don't judge," Reilly warned with a grin.

Andy nudged Chris and whispered something in her ear, but Chris slapped his arm with both of her hands and hissed something back that Scotty knew to be a death threat. Reilly caught the motion to and threw a hand over her mouth to swallow back a laugh. Apparently, she still found 'starstruck' amusing.

"You a fan?" she asked, composure regained. Chris turned beat red and nodded. "You," she pointed at Scotty, "remind me to get her an autograph, okay? I don't have anything on me right now."

"Oh, no," Chris protested. "You don't have to do that."

"No, I definitely do," Reilly insisted. "It's people like you who keep me doing what I do."

"REILLY!" A female voice sliced across the bar, although its source blended into the crowd too well to be seen. Reilly rolled her eyes.

"Y'AIN'T GOT A REASON TO GO WITHOUT US, SO CHILL!"

The table laughed, but Reilly just rolled her eyes and mouthed words that didn't seem to kind. "Your sister?" Mike asked.

"My sister," she confirmed. "I love her to pieces, but she can be the biggest pain in my ass. No patience. At all."

"Well, then, you two kids should probably get going, eh?" John prompted, flashing a wink at Scotty. What the hell? Scotty tried to glare at him, but Eddie gave him a solid shove that interrupted any attempt to show his dad that making this situation sexual was not appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah hated waiting. It was odd, really, because patience was always her strong suit. The concentration it took to decorate a wedding cake came so easily to her. Housebreaking Barkley back when he was a puppy never even fazed her. For whatever reason, though, it drove her insane when people knew she was waiting for them and still insisted on dragging their heels. Naturally, her twin was one such person. Reilly could meet any deadline, but '_fashionably_ late' was clearly far too attractive an offer for the younger Griffin to ignore. The Jeep engine rumbled behind Sarah as she shivered in her grey peacoat, waiting for Reilly and her friend to get their asses out of the bar. Well, at least the car would be warm when they finally got there.

When the door to the Elbow Room swung open to finally reveal Reilly and this mystery man, whose name Reilly probably shared in one of the moments Sarah clearly spaced out, Sarah could not help but shout, "You are _so fucking slow_!" across the parking lot.

"I swear to God above, Sarah, I will knock you into next Tuesday. I never miss this," Reilly groaned as she led the man across the lot.

"I never miss your ugly face, but you don't hear me complaining," Sarah retorted. Reilly's eyes grew wide, and a grin spread across her face. Sarah could tell by the way the guy looked between the two that he could tell a friendly war was just declared; clearly, he came from a family of verbal jokers, as well.

"I forgot how similar your voice is to the sound of nails on a chalkboard."

"Want to introduce me to the boy, Reils, or are you so quick to whore yourself out that you're not even bothering with names anymore?"

"Sarah, this is Scotty, a very nice boy who probably wants nothing to do with pathological liars like you." Sarah smiled sweetly, her sister's insult rolling off of her smoothly. She offered her hand, and Scotty shook it just as Reilly put the cherry on top with, "Scotty, this is Sarah. We're pretty sure the gonorrhea is gone now."

Scotty's eyebrows shot up, but Sarah ignored any impression he may be forming of her. Instead, she pulled her hand from his so she could lunge for her sister's stomach with both hands. Reilly squealed and threw her knee up to protect herself, but Sarah knew her sister too well. If anyone could launch a successful attack on Reilly, it was Sarah.

"Don't fucking _tickle me_!" Reilly insisted as she attempted to force her sister off by pushing her face.

"What do you say?" Sarah prodded.

"Fuck you."

"Wrong!"

"STOP IT!"

Sarah did, hands still outstretched for her sister's stomach, and the two stared at each other with wide, mirthful eyes. Reilly kept a hand on Sarah's face, the other holding one of her wrists in a desperate attempt to hold off the attack. "What do you say?" Sarah asked again.

"Scotty, she never had gonorrhea."

"I…um, I sorta figured," he nodded quickly.

"What _else_ do you say?" Sarah lurched her arms, and Reilly let out another girly squeal.

"Iloveyouandyou'rethebestsistereverandI'msorrySTOP!"

Sarah let her hands fall away and stepped back. "Thank you. Now, get in."

Reilly grumbled something under her breath and took shotgun. Scotty took the backseat, and the party was fairly quiet as Sarah pulled out of the parking lot. They just started down the road when Scotty found the bravery to ask. "So, uh, are you two always like this?"

"Pretty much," the confirmed simultaneously. Reilly elaborated with, "We can't help it. It's a family thing."

"I don't really think that's normal, actually," Scotty chuckled. "I mean, I know crazy-ass families, and even we don't do shit like that."

"It's a _sister_ thing," Sarah corrected. "I'm sure your family has your own stupid shit that you do."

"Well," he thought for a minute, "no, not to this…never mind, I take that back."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"My family doesn't do anything without fireworks and guns."

"For example?" Reilly prompted as the girls smiled appreciatively.

"Um..." Scotty licked his lips as he thought. "We were doing this tribute to another fisherman who passed away, and we gave him the Time Bandit send-off, which was basically launching a shitton of firecrackers and shooting the sky."

"That's sweet," Sarah murmured as she turned onto a dark side road that Scotty didn't recognize. Locals. Always had to avoid the main roads, like maybe the traffic would be bad.

"It is," Reilly agreed. "We stay away from explosives. They're too dangerous for our blood. Ever since that Christmas cracker went off in my face…" Sarah snorted at the memory.

"Don't be a girl," Scotty rolled his eyes.

"Watch it," Reilly warned, turning in her seat to point at him. "Or we'll turn our combined powers on you. You don't want that."

Sarah giggled as the two of them began bantering, challenging each other back and forth. Okay, she may not have seen her sister in a year and a half, but the Griffin girls always knew their twin better than themselves. She knew Reilly well enough to see where this was going. At least Scotty seemed like a cool guy. If he was going to be hanging around as much as she suspected, at least she liked him.

"All right, you two, out of my car," she ordered as she pulled into the parking lot of the airport. "This horse leaves town in twenty minutes."

"Sarah!" Reilly protested. "You don't have shit to do without us!" Sarah offered a sickly sweet grin to her sister, and Scotty froze with one foot on the ground and one still in the car to watch Reilly's face twist with the horror of realization. She had no reason to leave the Elbow Room without them, but now that she and Scotty were at the airport, Sarah could do whatever she wanted. "You wouldn't."

"I love you, dear, but you know I live for new episodes of Finding Bigfoot."

"If you strand us at this fucking airport, Sarah, I swear to-"

"_Eighteeeeeeeen minnnnnnnnutessssssss_," Sarah interrupted loudly, singing the new deadline with a smile on her face that infuriated Reilly. The redhead slammed the door shut but, for good measure, screamed a few more obscenities at the Jeep as Scotty got out. Sarah only tapped her wrist to indicate that time was ticking away, and Reilly kicked the tire sharply to express just how pissed she was.

Even though the car was nice and warm at the moment, damn did she need a cigarette. So, she cracked her window to keep the Jeep from filling with smoke, fished her Marlboros from her glovebox, and lit up. Fortunately for her, Reilly could not fume and walk at the same time.

"Is she always like this?" Scotty asked as Reilly yanked her ponytail out.

"Yes," she confirmed, pulling her hair back up into a new ponytail and working the band around it to hold it in place. "Every damn time."

"Wow. That's gotta get pretty fucking annoying."

"Hey," Reilly whirled abruptly, and Scotty nearly tripped over his own feet trying to back away from her. "Watch your mouth. That's my sister you're talking about."

He held his hands out, palms towards her, to show he meant no harm. "Woah, hey, sorry. I thought we were on the same page. Y'know, mutually…bitching…No?"

Reilly's shoulders sagged as she let out a short, snorty laugh. "Yes, we were. Sorry. I'm used to defending her. It's…well, you know. It's a family thing."

Sarah snorted and flicked her cigarette out the window. "I can heeeeeeear yooooouuuu," she sang. Reilly's face dropped towards the ground and her shoulder shook, tell-tale signs of laughter.

"Eff you, Sarah!" she ordered. "C'mon, Scotty. Let's get our bags. She seriously will leave without us."

Sarah checked her phone quickly. "Twelve minutes!"


	5. Chapter 5

**So, guess who fell asleep outside and woke up red as a lobster? Yup, this girl. Sunburn…everywhere… Hurts to move. So, good for you gals, because I got some writing done!**

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"What'd'ya think, brotha? We stickin' with reds?"

The Hillstrand brothers surveyed their crab pots, staring at the massive stacks of steel as if the gear could answer them. Their pots, nearly 150 in total, sat on the dying grass, waiting to be loaded onto the Time bandit.

Mike Fourtner hated going to the pot yard. Even after all these years as a deckhand, he still felt disoriented amongst the massive stacks. Pots should be on boats or in water, not stacked six high on dry land. It was his job to go with the three Hillstrands to know how many pots were going on the boat, though. Provided, of course, the co-captains could decide what kind of crab to catch. With quotas cut so drastically, the entire fleet suddenly found hunting for blue crab a legitimate option, if only for the money involved if they were successful.

"Reds," John finally answered, confirming Andy's thoughts. "No one ever finds blues, and I hate fishing in ice."

"Y'know, Junior's huntin' both on the Seabrooke."

"Both? Didn't think of that."

As the brothers once again began debating, a flash of white blurred through Mike's peripheral vision. He snapped his head around, but saw nothing. Writing it off as a reflection of the morning sun, he thought nothing more of it until the whimper. Scotty heard, too, but neither of them moved at first. When the next whimper turned into a sharp, high-pitched yelp, they both snapped to action. John and Andy trailed not far behind as Mike, then Scotty, wove through the pots towards the distressed cries.

"What the hell is that?" John asked.

"Sounds like a kid," Andy supplied.

"You've never had kids," Scott reminded him with a grunt. "It sounds nothing like a kid."

As the leader of the group, Mike saw the bundle of grey and white hair before the rest and answered the mystery question for them. "It's a dog."

"Where the hell did he come from?" Andy frowned.

Mike bent down next to the animal, which tried to retreat from him but could not. It had managed somehow to snag its collar on a coil of rope inside one of the pots, pressed against the metal cage so a curious creature could easily brush against it.

"Dunno, but he's stuck." Mike offered his hand to the dog, and a snout cautiously sniffed his knuckles. He must have passed inspection, because the dog them licked his fingers and let out a lone tail wag.

"He likes you," Scotty said.

"I'm good with dogs," Mike mumbled as he checked the dog's tags for a name and address. "Barkley, huh?" The dog wagged happily at its name. "Cute." After looping one hand firmly around the dog's collar, he pulled the knife from his pocket and sliced away the strand of rope trapping the animal. Barkley immediately tried to take off with his newfound freedom, but Mike held fast. "Grab me some rope for a leash."

John offered some, and Mike instructed the captain on how to tie and loop it around Barkley's neck. Once Mike had the dog secured on the makeshift leash, Andy suggested, "Why don't you get him home, Mikey? There'll still be some work for you when you get back."

"You sure?"

"Bro," Scotty snorted, "they can't even decide what we're fishing yet."

"Watch your mouth, boy," John warned, but it was obviously all light-hearted. So, Mike headed towards town with Barkley the sheepdog trotting along happily beside him.

Although he never really learned street names in this tiny little town, it was easy enough to find Trapper Drive and consequentially the dog's home. The town was not that big, after all, and Barkley lit up when they got close, leading the way to a little two story house with a bright red flowerpot on the middle of three steps leading to the porch.

"Is this home, buddy?" Mike asked. Barkley let out a woof and tugged excitedly on the rope. "Okay," he laughed. "Calm down, boy." He climbed onto the porch and rang the doorbell, to which the dog instinctively barked.

When the door opened, Mike expected to hand over the dog, refuse whatever compensation the Dutch-dweller offered, and be on his way. However, when the slender woman with the curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes opened the forest green door, Mike forgot the entire English language. Needless to say, his plan also flew from his mind.

He had never seen this woman before, and he knew that because he would definitely remember meeting her. No, she was not the typical wannabe model that clung to him and his Deadliest Catch companions when they went out. He wouldn't call her hot or sexy. Yet, in her light grey cotton dress and black flats, she took his breath away. Thank God Barkley woofed at the sight of his owner, because Mike knew he would have stared at her endlessly otherwise.

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her chest as she heaved a sigh of relief. "You found Barkley!" She immediately squatted down and grabbed her dog's face in her hands. "Where did you run off to, troublemaker?"

Something about the way she pitched her voice lower and drawled her words as she grinned at her dog forced Mike to compose himself. He could talk to pretty girls, for Christ's sake. "We found him down in our pot yard. He got tangled up in some ropes."

The young woman stood back up as she rolled her eyes, absently brushing off her skirt. "Figures. He's just been so crazy lately. I think the cold air is screwing with his mind. Thank you so much for bringing him back. Here." She unlooped the rope from Barkley's neck, and the dog scooted by her into the house. "I'm Sarah Griffin."

"Mike Fourtner." He offered his hand, and she shook it happily. Her fingers were cool to the touch, the silky smooth texture that only freshly applied lotion could give. If he could just hold on to that hand until it was time to go fishing, he would. But, that would have been creepy, and he really did not need the locals gossiping about how creepy that Fourtner dude was. So, he let go even though he did not want to.

"I really can't thank you enough. I've been worried shitless here for the past hour. Here, let me repay you."

"No," Mike blurted as she turned away from him. "No, it's all right. I don't need anything. I'm just glad he's back home okay."

She laughed musically and turned back to him. "Thanks to you. Seriously, take some cookies or something. You have no idea how much this dog means to us."

"Us?" He gulped, finding that this mystery housemate bothered him.

"My sister and I." Well, that made him feel much better for some reason. "We love that stupid dog like you wouldn't believe. I _have _to give you something."

"Tell you what. I don't need money or cookies or anything. Just let me take you out to dinner tonight."

What? He felt as surprised to hear himself make the offer as she looked. Her bright blue eyes flew open, and she leaned against her doorframe for support. Well, shit. There went his plans to not be the creepy guy.

"Wow." She sounded calm about it, but her eyes stayed wide as she stared blankly at his chest without really seeing him. Then, her eyes, still wide as saucers, found his face. "Did you just ask me out?"

"Um…" He rubbed the back of his head, feeling more awkward than he had since asking girls to high school dances. "Yeah, I think I just did. Wow." He laughed a little in disbelief, and she joined in. "That's probably really creepy, huh? I'm sorry. I meant to just bring your dog and leave, but…that came out. And…I don't want to be the creepy guy."

Sarah's face lit up with a broad grin that made her eyes shine. "You're not creepy, Mike. It's just, um, I know I'm kinda new to town, but where exactly do you go on a dinner date around here?"

"I have no idea. I don't even live here. I'm a crabber, so when I'm in town, I'm normally just prepping the boat." He shoved his hands in his pockets and laughed again at the awkward situation his stupid mouth created. "I've never really looked for, like, places like that."

"I've only been here for…" she rolled her eyes heavenward and flicked them side-to-side as she counted in her head, "four months? Stuff like this kind of took the back seat."

"This was a bad idea. I don't even know why I did that. Look, I'm sorry. Sorry I'm an idiot. Not that I don't want to take you out!" He flung his hands in front of him to placate her if his backtracking was rude, which something told him it was. Telling a girl it was stupid to ask her out was definitely not written in the Book of Smooth. "I_ totally_ do. I just need to plan this better."

Sarah laughed at him and then expertly threw her leg across the doorframe to block Barkley from taking off outside. "I'll tell you what. My sister's going exploring tomorrow and won't be back until super crazy late. Why don't you come over and help me cook dinner?"

"Okay." He broke into a grin at his luck. "Okay, yeah. That sounds…that sounds great."

"Great," she beamed.

He realized too late how uncomfortable it was that he still stood on her porch, so he took a step back. "Cool. Well…I'll see you tomorrow, then. I should be done on the boat around 7:30, if that works."

"That would perfect," she nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mike."

"Bye, Sarah."

He stood there on her porch, grinning like an idiot, for far too long after she closed the door. His brain just could not figure out how to get him back to the boat right away; he needed time to process what just happened. When he did, his lingering smile broadened across his face, and he pumped his fist into the air. He hopped down the steps, shoved his hands into his pockets, and made his way back to the pot yard. Hot damn.

"How the hell did I just pull that off?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Whew, this one came out kinda long! That's probably good in the long run, though, because I have a crazy work schedule this week and I'm not sure when I'm gonna be able to post next. Enjoy! Thanks for all your great comments!**

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The familiar weight of a stuffed backpack felt comforting to Reilly as she stepped off of the road to head up the grassy hillside. This was always the first thing she did in a new place: load up a backpack and spend a day or two exploring. She had camped in parks, slept on benches, and even been up wandering all night because one day was never enough to get her bearings. Exploring made her feel safe in these strange new places; knowledge is power, and knowing her way around gave her an advantage. People may think of her as the newcomer who did not know where anything was and knew only one way to and from a location, but she refused to let road maps best her. No one could convince her that she overreacted, either, because this mindset had saved her life in the past. Twice.

It did not matter that Dutch Harbor was a far cry from the seaside down of Kaleköy, Turkey that was too small to even have a road. It was certainly not the town along the Jinshanling portion of the Great Wall of China. The relatively pedestrian setting, however, did not mean she could slack off. She still had to know where she was, if only for her own reassurances. Just like Gilliam, Missouri with its 220 residents; or Zap, North Dakota (population: 209 when she visited); or the heart-wrenching year spent in Columbine, Colorado; she needed to discover every inch of this place. She found small town America just as fascinating as the time she spent with the researchers of the Gombe Stream Research Center in Tanzania.

Every town had stories, and Reilly chose long ago to dedicate her life to uncovering those stories. From research biologists to dirt-poor farmers to happy housewives, everyone had something to share with the world that they might not share with their neighbors. That was what made places like Dutch Harbor beautiful. Yes, the ocean view from the top of the hill was breathtaking, but this town was nothing without its people.

With all of the commotion surrounding the docks, Reilly figured that a young woman with a backpack meant for traversing through the wilderness could easily slip by unnoticed. That was one of the reasons she had to explore, though. It showed which of her notions were right, and which were wrong. Thinking she could scoot by the crab boats unnoticed was most certainly wrong.

Just as she passed the Northwestern, something hit her backpack solidly and sent her stumbling. She spun around with her fists up to face what she assumed was an attacker, but there was no one there. She looked around frantically until she finally found him bent down, picking up the groceries that escaped from his dropped bag. Cans of Red Bull, instant coffee, a package of ground sausage meat, and three bottles of Tylenol sprawled across the ground, so she also dropped into a squat to help the man in the Helly Hanson hoodie.

"Thanks." He took the last bottle of Tylenol from her, shoved it into the bag, and stood up. "Sorry 'bout that. I wasn't really looking where I was going."

"It's fine," Reilly shrugged. "Do you work on this boat?"

The man chuckled, his whole face lighting up from it. "You could say that. I'm Edgar Hansen."

"Reilly Griffin. Nice meeting you."

"Not to, like, be nosey or anything, but did you hike here from Canada or something?" He motioned to her backpack, and she glanced back at it as if forgetting until that moment that it was there.

"No," she laughed. "I'm getting to know Dutch Harbor, probably won't get back to the house for a day or two. I just needed a change of clothes, some food, and some water."

"I know it seems like we're in the tundra, but, um, you _do_ know that you can buy that stuff as you go, right? The savages of Alaska are actually civilized enough to build stores."

Reilly giggled again at his wording, and Edgar grinned at how infectious her uninhibited laugh was. "I don't like relying on that, that's all. You never know when you'll get stuck somewhere."

"I _really_ think you'll be okay here. In fact, y'know what, I'm just going in to make a good old crab boat breakfast. I've got enough for an extra person."

Reilly considered this offer carefully as Edgar checked his bag to make sure he had everything. Sarah made their favorite blueberry chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, but that already was hours ago so Reilly could leave at sunrise. An extra meal, especially a hearty one, might be good. She would be hungry soon enough anyway. The best part of exploring was meeting new people, after all, and the Northwestern crew certainly qualified, but being trapped on a crab boat was not exactly in her plans.

Just as she opened her mouth to say no, a familiar face appeared over Edgar's shoulder. Scotty Hillstrand and three other men she recognized from the Elbow Room (Andy, John, and Mike, if she remembered right) crept towards the Northwestern. Andy checked if the deck and wheelhouse were cleared, and then he and Mike climbed aboard. Scotty watched Edgar. When Scotty caught her eye, he waved his hand in a circle to signal her to draw the conversation out until they could find somewhere to hide.

She nodded, to which Scotty gave her a thumbs up and Edgar figured she accepted the offer. "Well, wait," she grinned teasingly. "That depends. What're you making?"

"Does that really matter? You're not a vegan nut or some shit like that, are you?"

Reilly decided then that Edgar Hansen could get her to laugh on even the worst days. "I'm not a vegan nut, no. I just don't want to hang back from exploring for shit food."

"Oh, no, I know you didn't just accuse me of making shit food. There's no shit food on my boat. Apologize."

"For what?" she asked innocently, popping her eyes open as wide as they would go and blinking exaggeratedly. Edgar gave her a look. "Fine," she grinned. "I apologize. I'm sure your food is wonderful, Edgar."

"Damn straight. C'mon." She checked quickly and saw no sign of the Time Bandit boys, so she followed Edgar inside. "Hey boys!" Ed yelled when they got inside the boat. "Put your pants on! We've got a lady guest."

"Watch it, Edgar. You don't know me well enough to know if I'm a lady or not."

Edgar raised his eyebrows at this challenge. "Are you saying that I shouldn't judge or that you're not a lady?"

Reilly shrugged as the crew sleepily filed in. "Maybe a little of both."

"Who's this?" A sleep-grizzled man asked, slumping into a seat at the table.

"Nick, Reilly. Reilly, Nick." Reilly accepted Nick's handshake as Edgar eloquently introduced them.

The crew of the Northwestern made Reilly feel right at home. Jake Anderson knew who she was from reading her books with his later sister, and that immediately started a conversation. Matt could not seem to understand what her books were about, earning ridicule from his crew mates. These men made her feel comfortable and easy, like how she imagined family would be.

If she could stay around that table forever, she would have. But, part of her mind remembered that those Hillstrands were on the boat, and even her limited knowledge of them knew that meant trouble. Sure enough, just as Edgar took the sausage off the heat, a metal canister hit the floor, hissing menacingly. The men all swore and scrambled for the stairs as a cloud of Axe cologne filled the galley. Reilly, however, ducked under the table and, as the last man ran out to catch the Axe bomber on deck, grabbed the canister. Rubber bands and duct tape held the nozzle down in the 'spray' position.

"Nice work," she murmured before ripping the tape off and releasing the rubber band.

The Axe stopped spraying, but the scent of cocky teenage boy already permeated the air too thickly for her to stay there. Something told her that the bomb was only a distraction meant to flush the men outside, and the bangs and shouts that followed this thought confirmed her suspicion. So, Axe in hand and pack once again on her back, she crept up the stairs into the wheelhouse. Sig abandoned it long ago for breakfast, which made it the perfect vantage point to see what was going on. The Axe scent definitely filled that room, too, but not nearly as strongly as downstairs. It was only a matter of time, though, so she took a quick look out at the deck to see what all the commotion was.

The Northwestern boys, it appeared, ran right into a dangerous trap. While they were inside, the Time Bandit crew set mousetraps all over the deck, and they were all snapping shut in a chain reaction apparently caused by Matt's hasty retreat to the deck. The guys were stuck since they could not go back inside, and mousetraps flew through the air as the guys blocked their faces with their arms and tried to get away from the snapping. Their movements only set off more traps, though, causing even more chaos. This was increased by, of course, explosives thrown going off from locations she could not quite find through the smoke hazing across the deck.

"Fucking _brilliant_," she murmured, impressed by the Time Bandit's handiwork. Cautiously, she opened the outside door and found Scotty Hillstrand standing on Sig's viewing deck, face red from laughing so hard at his success.

"H-hey, Reilly," he gasped. "You escaped, huh?"

"Clearly." She shook the can of Axe and experimentally sprayed some into the air. The body spray sputtered weakly, running low. "Your idea?"

"You bet your ass."

"Pretty big bet."

"You said it, not me."

Reilly grinned. "You were thinking it." Scotty shrugged and flashed a devilish grin. Yes, yes he was, and she realized she was okay with Scotty Hillstrand thinking about her ass. She tossed the can at him, and, despite a brief fumble, he managed to catch it. "In college, some girl told me I had the ass of a Puerto Rican, and I'm about 90% sure she meant it as a complement. By the way, duct tape and rubber bands? Good job."

"I learned from the best." It was probably the author always hunting for stories in Reilly that noticed how his expression changed from that of a child giddy with his success to something deeper, softer. Whoever taught Scotty how to prank obviously meant a lot to him. The soft smile on his face as he thought about that person made her heart twinge. She did not know, though, if it was due to how suddenly attractive he was or to the jealousy she felt every time someone showed they had a parent-figure out there in the world. She always wondered what having a father or mother felt like.

"HILLSTRAND!" Sig's voice interrupted her musings. Scotty whipped his head around, but Sig looked in the opposite direction at John. "THIS MEANS WAR!"

"Let's get out of here," Scotty hissed. He held out his hand and cocked his head towards the stairs leading to the deck. It might not be the safest escape plan to sneak right by the enemy, but Reilly gamely took his hand and let him lead her off the boat. Thankfully, the Northwestern men had enough other distractions to keep them occupied.

Scotty hopped off first and offered his hands out to catch her when she jumped the rail. Just as Reilly swung her leg over, Edgar let out a shout.

"You _knew_? Oh, it is ON, Griffin!"

Reilly flashed the mischievous Griffin grin, confirming that the Northwestern would seek revenge on her for this prank, and swung over. The pause on the rail ruined her momentum and nearly caused her to tumble into the water, but warm, callused hands caught her forearms. Scotty pulled her onto the docks so smoothly that no one noticed how her foot dangled over the water for half a second. Momentum made her stumble forward into his chest, and Scotty caught her scent of flowers and trees and cotton.

"Thanks." She gasped as her heart fluttered, probably from adrenaline.

Scotty grinned boyishly. "I should thank you for distracting them. We thought they were still sleeping."

Reilly shrugged and stepped away from him to brush herself off. "Don't mention it. I love shit like that. Just wish you'd taken longer to set the mousetraps so I could get some food out of the deal."

"If you're hungry, you can come over to the Time Bandit. Eddie's been cooking while we were gone."

"Is that even a question?" Reilly perked up. "The way I see it, you owe me a meal after ruining my Northwestern breakfast."

Scotty grinned playfully. "I _owe_ you? I think _you _owe _me_ for having to walk home from the airport the other day."

"I told you Sarah really would pull out without us," Reilly countered as he led the way towards the boat. "I have no control over her."

"I can't believe your own sister would make you walk home at night in the middle of Alaska."

"You clearly don't know my sister," Reilly laughed. "She wouldn't do it if she didn't know I could handle it. Trust me, she knew I'd be fine."

"You bitched the whole way back! How are you so calm about it now?" he laughed, mostly from amazement at her mood swing

Reilly shrugged. "Oh, c'mon, Scotty. It's just a thing. Sarah deserts me, I give her the wrong directions, she switches my shampoo with hair dye, I switch the contents of her medicine cabinet. It's what we do."

"Wait, back it up. You do _what_ with her medicine?"

Reilly laughed. "I dump all her Tylenol in the bottle for her allergy medicine, and put those pills in her vitamins. Or whatever swaps I feel like making. Nothing dangerous, just fun. So she can't figure out why her eyes are still watering by her tension headache is gone."

"That's…brilliant. You're fucking brilliant," he nodded in awe.

"I know." Reilly laughed. "And I'm humble about it, too. Now, this is the boat, yes?"

She motioned to the shiny black boat in front of them, where Chris and Andy stood in the middle of the deck, heatedly gesturing to the water, then the wheelhouse, then back to the water. Scotty groaned. "Yes, this is the boat. And it looks like my aunt and uncle are fighting already."

"Already?"

Scotty shook his head and hopped the rail, offering a hand back to help her so she didn't fall in the water. Once she was firmly on deck, he explained. "They love each other, trust me, but out here they're not a couple in love. They're a boat owner and a Deadliest Catch producer, and they lose their damn minds."

As if to accent this point, Chris snapped, "If I put the camera _there_, how am I supposed to film something _here_?"

Andy rolled his whole head, not just his eyes. "That's not _my_ problem, is it? _You're_ the one that has to film, not me!"

"_You're_ not even the captain this season! Why am I even arguing with you?"

"Babe, I don't even fucking know! Maybe it's because you can't handle my sexy."

Scotty rolled his eyes, took Reilly's hand, and tugged her towards the galley. "They're gonna start making out any minute now. C'mon. I'll show ya' around."


	7. Chapter 7

**So, I'm not going to lie – I didn't exactly proofread this chapter. So, if there are any glaringly horrible errors, I'm sorry! I pretty much just wrote it and posted it in a burst of inspiration (and a bit of panic when I saw how long it was since my last post and how busy my work schedule is the next few days!) It's long, though, so maybe that'll make up for the wait!**

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Mike couldn't help it. As soon as he and Scotty started securing the last line of pots on deck, he started getting antsy. He wanted off the boat, and fast. As it was, he still had time to shower and change before getting to Sarah's, and he desperately needed to do both. The day had been unseasonably warm for Alaska, and the locals took full advantage of it. Young girls, naïvely hoping to find some dreamboat crabber to sweep them off their feet, walked up and down the docks to show off their figures on this rare Saturday when heavy winter jackets were not needed. Older local women chased after runaway children, who scampered to the docks with no concern for the deadly water yards away. Men lingered near parked pick-ups, hands in their pockets, muttering to each other about this and that and who did what and what needed fixing once the boats were at sea, eyes alternately watching their women and glaring at their daughters.

He loved this town. As much as he loved Seattle, which had always been a good home to him, there was something about this tiny town that warmed his heart. For him, Dutch Harbor was just a place he had to pass through, a means to an end. For these people, though, it was their home. It was Sarah's home. Maybe Reilly was on to something with her books; there were stories in this town that he wanted to know.

"All right!" Scotty grunted, landing solidly on the deck. "That shit's done. I'm gonna check with the old man, see if we can peace outta here."

"Sounds solid," Mike agreed, climbing off of the stack. He expected Scotty to go up into the wheelhouse, talk to his dad, and come back out with news. But, that why on earth would he expect that?

"HEY, CAPTAIN! I WANT A BEER!" Scotty yelled from the middle of the deck. Up in the wheelhouse, Johnathan and Chris were in the middle of some sort of interview, and Chris promptly flipped Scotty off for ruining it. John rolled his eyes dramatically and said something that made her laugh before waving his son off. "Sweet," Scott grinned. "Let's go."

"You go on ahead," Mike shook his head. "I'm not hitting the bar tonight."

"The fuck not?" Scotty made a face. Mike tried to shrug non-committally, but he never was very good with a poker face. "You met some chick, didn't you?" Scotty grinned slyly. "You met a chick! She hot?"

Mike felt his cheeks flush as he pushed his way inside, which turned out to be the worst plan yet. Both Eddies and Travis sat at the table, debating whether or not they were stocking up on cod tomorrow or the next day. All three men looked up at Mike and Scotty as they came in, all conversations naturally stopping dead when hot girls were mentioned.

"Leave me alone," Mike rolled his eyes. "Just because you can't get a date doesn't mean you have to torture me about mine."

"So it _is_ a chick. Bam!" Scotty pumped a fist in the air triumphantly. "What's her name?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Just drop it, man. It's not like that."

"Dude," Travis's gravelly voice cut in, "it's _always _like that. She blonde?"

"I…" What was the use? "Yeah, she's blonde. But!" He threw his hands out quickly, which stopped their words but not their grins. "It's not like that. This girl is actually sweet and decent and not one you just screw and leave, which is why I'm not telling you guys jack shit about her."

"Afraid we'll move in on your territory? C'mon," Travis rolled his eyes. "Just give us her name."

Mike grumbled and stepped around Scotty towards the showers. Not that it saved him any ridicule, of course. "Or we can guess!" Eddie Boy suggested.

"Oh, I like that!" Travis chortled. "Probably something real high-class, 'cuz she's such a _catch_. Something like Beatrice or…or…"

"Charlene," Eddie Sr. supplied.

"Oooh, I like that one!" Travis laughed. Mike rolled his eyes; only on the Time Bandit could you close the door to your stateroom and still hear the crew ridiculing you over someone they did not even know. "Or maybe it's not even a she at all."

"You think it's really, like, Bob?" Scotty suggested. "Or Pete?"

This sent them into a new round of hysterics that Mike had to ignore as he slipped into the shower. That was life out here, of course. It wasn't like he never ragged on guys over something perfectly innocent. How many times had he told Scott to go cry to daddy about something? When Travis's cookbook got published, Mike was the first guy to ask why he wasn't cooking beef wellington on the boat. He could take it, too.

They were still going at it when he came out in a fresh pair of jeans and the nicest shirt he could find, which was just a black Time Bandit t-shirt. He snagged his hat, a Lowes baseball cap that was a free giveaway at some Discovery event he had to go to. Scotty tossed a hoodie his way, and Mike groaned when he saw it.

"Why does everything I own have a crab on it?" he grumbled. Travis laughed.

"Worried Harriet's going to be put off by the Time Bandit shirt and the Alaska Red Gold hoodie? Man, that's who you are!"

"It's not exactly what you wear on a first date, 'sall I'm saying," Mike explained. "And her name isn't Harriet."

"Well, if you'd tell us what it _is_…" Eddie Boy prompted, but Mike only shook his head.

"I don't think so. If I get a second date, then I'll tell you guys about her."

"We're going to hold you to that," Travis pointed menacingly. "Don't you back out on us."

"I won't. But, if I'm late, there won't be a second date. I'm out." He gave a short salute to his crew, who waved back, and he headed out the door into the warm evening.

It really was odd to have such nice weather, but it made the walk to Sarah's house that much nicer. Of course, nice in Alaska was still fairly cold, but the locals seemed to think it was summer time. And Sarah, even for a new local, felt the same way. As Mike came in view of the house, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her sitting on the porch steps, sipping from a wine glass. The front door was open, Kenny Chesney drifting out to her from somewhere inside. Her eyes were closed as she scratched the head of a sleeping Barkley, who was tied to the porch swing just in case he felt like wandering again. She looked so peaceful in her simple black tank top and blue-and-white striped knee-length flared skirt, a beige cardigan pooled around her elbows to leave her upper arms bare. She rocked her head in rhythm to the song as a light breeze rustled her hair, and Mike desperately wished it wouldn't be weird to take a picture right now. But it would be, so he just told himself to remember this moment and continued walking.

She still hadn't noticed him when he got to the porch, but Barkley lifted his head, noticed him, and immediately got excited. The dog tried to leap off of the porch to great him, but his leash pulled tight and yanked him backwards. Barkley yelped in surprise, which startled Sarah; she jumped violently, wine splashing out of her glass and right onto her shirt.

"Dammit, Barkley," she grumbled, wincing at the stain on her shirt. "What's wrong, buddy?"

Barkley barked at Mike, and she whipped her head around to see him standing there. "Oh. _Oh_!" Her eyes grew wide, and she checked the time on her cell phone. "Shit, I totally lost track of time! I didn't even…shit!" Mike laughed at her panic as she scrambled to her feet. She pushed Barkley back as he tried again to rush off of the porch. "I'm not even ready. I was going to, um…shit."

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm a little early, actually."

"No, no, you're not," she insisted. "I just fell asleep. Here, come on in, I'll get you some wine so you have something while I change my shirt." For good measure, she swore under her breath one last time as they turned to go.

Mike was just about to duck inside when Barkley let out a little whimper that stopped him. "Hey, Sarah? Can I let our little buddy go free?"

"Hm?" She turned from the kitchen counter to see two eager faces looking at her. "Oh, Christ," she laughed. "Sure, you can let Barkley back in." He quickly unhooked the dog, and both boys went inside, Barkley barreling in while Mike made his way more casually.

"I figured, y'know, since the weather's so gorgeous, we could eat outside," Sarah said as she handed him a glass of red wine. This wasn't exactly his definition of gorgeous, but he had no real objection to being a little bit chilly if it meant she would want to sit that much closer to him, so he nodded. "I've got fried chicken, but I might have made it too spicy, sorry. Um, and I have roasted mushrooms and green beans and…well, I don't know what you like, so I could make corn if that's no good. Or if you don't eat chicken, I could…"

"Sarah, no," he held up his hands to stop her, "I love chicken. Chicken's awesome. It's great." _Dude, seriously. You didn't have to add that extra one_. After mentally scolding himself for overdoing it, he told her, "And mushrooms and green beans are fine, too. Really, you've done enough. I'd love to just sit outside and eat instead of being out there working."

Sarah beamed at him, pleased that she'd chosen right with food. "Okay! Well, let me change my shirt, and we'll go outside and you can tell me all about that work you did."

Mike laughed at her enthusiasm as she headed towards the stairs. "Oh, yeah," she added over her shoulder, nearly tripping over Barkley as the dog rushed to beat her upstairs, "there are nut-crusted cheeseballs on the counter if you want some." Her face twisted. "Unless you're allergic. You aren't allergic, are you? I didn't, like, accidentally try to kill you?"

"No," he grinned, "you didn't. I'm not allergic."

"Whew!" She pressed a hand to her heart in relief. "Well, they're on the counter, then! And you can turn the music off if it bugs you."

Mike popped a cheese ball into his mouth as she vanished upstairs and immediately decided that, if dinner was as good as this little thing, he needed to keep this girl around forever. With the few minutes he had, he casually scanned her bookshelf, which contained the usual assortment: A collection of Jane Austen books, a framed picture of Sarah and a familiar redhead in matching red bikinis on some beach, a carved wooden treasure box, some mail, all kinds of cookbooks in a variety of eye-catching colors, probably every classic novel he could name and then some, car keys, and those Small Town Stories books Chris had been talking about.

Oh, that was why the redhead in the picture was so familiar. She knew Reilly. _"No, wait, she mentioned that she had a sister, she has a picture of the two of them on a beach together that clearly shows they have a matching birthmark, and she owns all of Reilly's books. So, let's add two and two, Mikey-Mike."_

"Okay, ready?"

"Is Reilly your sister?" Sarah stopped in her tracks at the random question, and Mike squeezed his eyes shut at his big mouth. "That was…um, she's Scott's friend, and he works on my boat, and she's in the picture, and…dammit."

"No," she laughed, pulling a tray of chicken out of the oven. She had thrown on a plum tank top this time and found a matching pair of flats with bows on them. "It's fine. Yeah, Reilly's my sister."

"But you're so sweet!"

Sarah stared for a moment before her eyes suddenly grew as wide as saucers and her cheeks turned scarlet. "Um…th-thanks?"

"Not that Reilly's not…she's nice, too. She's cool, but she's…" He gave a weak half-smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Dammit."

"She's tougher," Sarah agreed after a quick sip of wine to hide any sign of just how adorable she thought he looked when he got embarrassed. "It's how we grew up. Things weren't exactly easy, and we each deal with it our own ways." She paused to refill her glass since she had spilled most of it earlier, and Mike wondered if he should ask what exactly they had to deal with. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Sarah started talking again. "But, like I said, she's gone until tomorrow. She likes to explore every inch of a new town, so she'll be out for at least a day, probably two. She likes getting lost."

"Yeah, Scotty dragged her by the boat earlier today for breakfast."

Sarah rolled her eyes and scooped the mushrooms and green beans into a bowl. "She would. That girl eats like a fatass, I swear."

"Living with a cook like you, I can't blame her." Mike grabbed the bowl and followed Sarah outside, catching the door for her since she was balancing the tray of chicken and the plates.

"Aw, thank you!" she grinned. "Cooking was the only thing I ever really liked to do growing up, although I'm really way better at baking. Which reminds me, I have an apple tart somewhere."

"You're going to kill me," Mike laughed as they sat down on the grass. "Going from this to eating on the boat?"

"You'll do just fine," she assured him, scooping some mushrooms and beans onto the plates. He snagged himself some chicken, and she did the same. "So, what were you doing today?"

"Stacking pots. We had to unload our cod pots, the ones we catch cod in-"

"I did actually figure that you use cod pots to catch cod, yeah," she laughed. "You don't have to explain everything to me."

"Right. Yeah. Sorry." She laughed again at his embarrassment and waved him on. "So we did that the other day, but today we had to load our crab pots onto the boat. And tomorrow we'll get our order of cod in to top off our bait, go grocery shopping for the season, and we head out Saturday."

"Season starts that soon?"

Mike nodded. "Yup. It goes by before you know it, though. Our first offload is probably, like, only a week or two away."

"That's not too bad. I'm sure Reilly will be happy to see Scotty so soon." Sarah grinned wickedly, and Mike couldn't help but laugh.

"What _is_ going on with those two?"

"I have no idea," Sarah shrugged. "They just keep running into each other. I think the universe is trying to shove them together."

"Well, Scotty's divorced, and he's got some issues with his ex. I don't know how likely he is to jump on a new relationship."

"Mmm, what kind of issues?" Sarah frowned at her food. "Not that I'm prying."

"I don't think he has us bugged, don't worry," Mike assured her with a grin. "Rebecca's got primary custody of their son since, y'know, he's gone most of the year fishing. It's not such a big deal since he has Sawyer whenever he's home, but she's remarrying this guy who is, like, Stepford perfect. So, Scott's feeling a little inadequate right now. He keeps comparing his life now to what it could have been, I guess, and he doesn't like what he sees."

Sarah nodded knowingly. "Well, Reilly's not exactly about to go running into any relationships, either. She's not really big on attachment. We've been hurt enough, so she's not really into trusting people." Sarah shook her head. "Which is a real shame, because she could be real happy with someone like Scott. He makes her smile like I haven't seen in…well, in a long time."

Mike decided, once again, not to push Sarah about her past. Not on the first date. "Yeah, Scotty lights up around her. They'd be good together." The two of them nodded for a moment before Sarah giggled.

"Listen to us, gossiping like old fucking women."

"It's pretty sad, isn't it?" he agreed. "This isn't about Reilly and Scotty. I asked you on a date, so I want to hear about _you_."

"Oh, I'm not that interesting," Sarah blushed. He gently nudged her with his elbow to encourage her, and she giggled nervously. "Okay, okay. Let's see." She took a sip of wine as she thought. "Well, I'mmmmm…not nearly as interesting as my sister." She laughed lightly, as if being second best was something she found charming, and Mike decided that he could be quite happy with the less-interesting Griffin girl if she kept laughing like that. "I'm from New York City originally, but that really wasn't the place for me. I loved Manhattan for the short time I was there, and Queens will always have a…weird little place in my heart, but I needed to get the fuck out of New York."

Mike raised his eyebrows and swallowed back a laugh. This girl never failed to surprise him. She noticed his expression and cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"No, nothing," he shook his head. "You just…you swear _way _more than I thought you would."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Get used to it."

"Oh, I will," he assured her. "Anyway, keep going. Who's older, you or Reilly?"

"I am, kind of. Just by a few minutes. We're twins, actually, but I am technically older. I sort of raised Reilly, so anything she does, I take credit for. All those books?" She motioned towards the house where copies of her sisters' books were safely stored. "They really came from me. Little known fact." Mike laughed. "Seriously! Ummmmm, I was kick-ass at chemistry in high school. Like, for real, that was my shit. That's why I'm so good with baking. Baking is basically chemistry with chocolate, y'know?" Mike nodded like he did even though he knew almost as much about baking as he did about figure skating. "I loved that so much that I went to pastry school, and after school I landed a job as the pastry chef at this restaurant in Manhattan. But, like I said, that just wasn't for me, so I lost my fucking mind, quit my job, and moved up here!"

Mike chewed on his green beans slowly, thinking about how she told him so much about herself but he still felt like he knew so little about her. The more she told him, the more questions he had. But, before his silence got so long that she noticed, he raised his wine glass and swallowed. "And I'm glad you're here."

They spent the rest of the meal talking more about themselves, although Mike found out quickly that he could talk all evening long about his childhood without finding out anything regarding hers. Still, she loved to talk about her relationship with Reilly, telling all kinds of stories about their crazy antics, how they got each other in trouble, how they played pranks on their friends. Her eyes lit up and she described how her mother used to let her help around the kitchen making cupcakes and brownies and cookies and, her favorite, Jell-o. She told him that she was a violent Mets/Giants fan, so she hated everything to do with the Yankees, the Patriots, and all things Philadelphia. He didn't pretend to understand it, but she animatedly explained the baseball and football rivalries of the east coast until he got it.

He explained to her that the Mariners didn't really have any rivals because, well, they hadn't really been competitive in baseball for a long time. And he told her about why he started fishing, why he went back crabbing every year, how he found his home on the Time Bandit. She got absorbed in his stories of working on the Bering Sea, and he described the balance between life out there and life on land. He was careful, though, to avoid talking about the biggest see-saw he had to balance: his relationship with Chris. He could have sworn he loved that woman, and, while those feelings were definitely gone now, she was still one of his best friends. He never could tell if Andy knew a friend was all he considered her or not, and he always feared he would cross that line. She broke his heart and, while he had gotten over and accepted that she and Andy clearly belonged together, it was not something he liked talking about. And it definitely was not something to bring up on the first date, even though they were telling each other _everything_. Or almost everything, at least.

Night fell before they knew it, and Mike had to reluctantly head back to the Time Bandit. He took his time helping her clean up, slowly drying the dishes and putting them away, but he really did have to leave. She opened the door for him, and they hesitated there in the doorway.

"I had fun tonight," she smiled.

"Yeah, me, too," he agreed, shifting his weight nervously. "I wish I didn't have to go back so early."

"Me, too," she murmured. They stood there a moment more, looking at each other uncomfortably, until Mike couldn't take it anymore.

"Well, I-I…I gotta go."

Sarah's shoulders slumped a little, but she offered a soft smile and nodded. "Yeah, you should. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow," he promised. "Good night."

"Night, Mike." She hesitated one moment more, and then shut the door. Mike sighed at the porch lights and shook his head. He should have kissed her. Why the hell didn't he kiss her? He started down off of the porch, asking himself why he did not kiss her when she was clearly waiting for it.

"Damn," he murmured, hesitating on the last step. Would it be weird to go back? Yes, it would. But, hell, he'd spent so much time worrying about whether he was being weird or creepy or stupid and ended up blowing it anyway. She never seemed to care about any of that. So, he spun around and ran up the stairs to bang on the door.

Sarah opened it cautiously. She had already pulled her hair up in a messy bun, and Barkley, ever the guard dog, looked up from his dinner, saw Mike, and went right back to eating without even a growl.

"Did you forget something?" she frowned, glancing over her shoulder to see if there was a wallet or set of keys lying around that did not belong to her.

"Yes. Yes, I did," Mike nodded firmly.

Her frowned deepened until he took her face in his hands and firmly pressed his lips to hers. At first, she stiffened in surprise, but then she sighed into the kiss and let her body sink against his. Her hands floated over his chest, and Mike had to remind himself that he was not going to take this too far. Whatever was happening with this girl could not get screwed up, and something told him sleeping with her would definitely ruin it.

With all the willpower he had left, he pulled away from her gently. "Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Mike," she breathed. He gave her one last, gentle kiss, and turned towards the boat. He was aware that, this time, she left the door open and watched him leave, so he waited until he was just at the edge of the circle of light cast by the porch lights before glancing over his shoulder. She offered a small wave, and he did the same. Only then did she turn back inside, mostly because Barkley had finished his dinner and decided he wanted to play with his fisherman friend. She caught the dog with her foot and shoved him back in the house, arguing with the animal as she closed the door.

Mike smiled to himself as he headed for the Time Bandit. Yes, that was the woman he wanted. There was no doubt in his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry it's been a while since the last post. We were shorthanded at work, so I had a bunch of extra shifts, we lost power for a few days, and I just now finally had some time to sit down and write! Thanks for your patience and your great reviews, everyone!**

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The crew of the Time Bandit impatiently waited for Mike to wake up that morning so they could get all the details on the date he was so secretive about. Chris struggled to attach a camera to the wall of the galley, Travis worked away on breakfast, and the rest of the crew sat around the table anxiously awaiting both food and Mike.

"So, do you have a second date worked out with that chick?" Scotty asked as soon as Mike came out of his stateroom.

Mike frowned until his brain figured everything out. "Christ, leave me the hell alone," he grumbled. "I just woke up."

"I know who his date was with!" John announced as he dropped a box of doughnuts on the table. It was hard to tell what the men were more excited about, the prospect of doughnuts to go along with their French toast and bacon, or news of Mike's mystery date.

After stuffing half of a glazed doughnut in his mouth, Travis asked, "Whhhhuuuh?"

"Sarah Griffin," John announced. "They were all grilling her about it down at the bakery. Your chick was leading the pack, Scotty."

Scotty choked on his doughnut, but he quickly recovered. "Shut the fuck up." Felt like he was saying that a lot lately. "Reilly's not _my_ _chick_. And, don't call her a chick, okay? We should just stop using that word. Women are gonna start kicking our asses." It was probably best, he decided, that no one listened to him. He did not need the ridicule that a comment like that would bring, especially since, had they been listening, they all would know he only said it because something about Reilly being called such a casual word didn't sit right with him.

"God, can anyone just leave us alone?" Mike grunted as he poured himself some coffee.

"Fuck no, man! You can't just date some chick and not tell us about her! We have to make sure she's Time Bandit approved," John reminded him. "We have to make sure she's good for you."

"You know she's Reilly's younger sister, right?" Scotty asked no one in particular.

"She is? Seriously?" Eddie Boy asked.

"How many Griffins are in Dutch Harbor, man? Seriously." Scott shook his head at how dumb Eddie Jr. could be sometimes. "You've even seen them together at the bar."

Eddie Boy froze, eyes wide, as he tried to remember this event. "Shit. You're right."

"Course I'm right."

Christina snorted as she finally got the camera to stay in place on the wall, and the noise attracted everyone's attention. When she noticed that the conversation stopped, she glanced at the men over her shoulder to see that everyone was staring at her. She rolled her eyes and pointed at Scotty. "Reilly's younger, not Sarah. By three minutes. They're twins, dumbass."

"Hey, Son, you want some pie?" John asked. "It's humble flavored."

Scotty grunted; it always sucked when the tables turned like this. "Shut the fuck up."

"Dude, of course I knew that," Mike added, just to pile on to Scotty's humiliation. "We _did_ talk about her family. Unlike some people on this boat, I'm not a total animal when it comes to women."

"You're talking about Eddie Boy, right? You're totally talking about Eddie Boy. I've heard he's a total player!" Travis piped up, pointing at the younger Uwekoolani. Eddie Boy blushed bright red, but Scotty didn't find this nearly as funny as the rest of the crew.

"Right, well, I'm going outside to wait for this cod delivery," Scotty grumbled, grabbing another doughnut on his way up. Mike grabbed one, too, and followed. "Sorry for the shit, man."

"Whatever," Mike shrugged. "I can dish it, so I can take it."

"Your girl, Sarah, you like her?"

Mike looked out at the dock, which was calm this early in the day. The residents would not make it to the dock until later in the day when they started working with the boats, making deliveries and doing repairs and picking up crabbers that needed a ride somewhere. Right now, only a few men walked around, getting ready for their day's work.

"Yeah," he admitted finally. "I definitely like her."

"Good for you, bro. You deserve someone good. Y'know, with everything." Scotty noticed Mike's jaw tighten, so he let that train of thought end. He really did not want to get into the Chris-Andy-Mike history anyway. Mike was one of his best friends, but Andy was family. He loved Christina to death, but that woman sure had put him a shitty position when she left Mike for his uncle. It was just nice to see Mike smiling over a woman again. That's all he really wanted to say. "If you're happy with her, who the fuck are we to get in the way?" They leaned against the rail of the boat to watch the Northwestern guys hop the rail and start throwing survival suits around. Suit drills. Always fun to watch. Never fun to do. Especially not Time Bandit style.

"Thanks, man." Mike cocked his head to the side and squinted into the distance. "Speaking of girls, is that Reilly? With a…is that a cake?"

Scotty leaned way out over the rail, although he really did not need to. As soon as he saw the figure Mike pointed at, he could tell that it was, in fact, Reilly. She would be the only person in Dutch Harbor to wear those black heeled boots and walk around as smoothly as if she was in a mall rather than on uneven, rocky, muddy terrain. Not to mention that he could pick out that ginger hair in a crowded bar. It was down today instead of in her normal ponytail, and he was surprised to see how long it really was.

"It is," Scotty confirmed. "Don't know why she's got a cake, though."

"Maybe it's for you."

"Don't start."

Mike grinned at the dark look Scotty shot him. "Dude, I'm just joking. She's hot, I know she's got good genes, and she's just as crazy as you are. I wouldn't blame you for being interested."

"Well, I'm not, okay? Could we just drop it?" he snapped.

"Yeah, okay." Mike held his hands up. "I'm dropping it. If you want to go talk to her, though, I've got this whole 'waiting for the cod' thing covered."

Scotty shook his head. "Nah, I'm good." The guys stood there, and watched her head over to the Northwestern. The Norwegian crew saw her coming and, led by Edgar, turned their backs on her. Reilly said some things that Scotty couldn't hear from his distance, probably just trying to get their attention, but finally gave up and looked longingly at the cake box in her hand.

"Of course," she said dramatically loud, "I could just take this apology cake home with me. I don't _need _the extra sugar on my hips, but I'm never opposed."

Edgar whirled around in a second. "It's gonna take more than a cake to make this better, sugar."

"Don't call me sugar," she warned with a grin. "Do you want the cake or not?"

"You helped those punks pull a fast one on us."

"I was suckered into it! I had no idea what they were doing until the deed was done. You can ask them yourself." She shoved the cake towards him and shook the box enticingly. Edgar studied her face carefully, then stared at the box, then back at her.

"Did your sister bake this?"

"I sure as hell didn't."

"I'm still gonna make you pay," he warned her, but he took the cake box as Reilly gaped.

"That's not how this works. Edgar. Eddie! Hey!" Edgar pointed to Jake Anderson to get ready for his drill. "The cake was instead of payback, not on top of."

"Maybe in your world, sweetie," he grinned at her. Reilly threw her hands up in the air, which Edgar found hilarious, and he wrapped his free arm around her shoulder to give her a makeshift hug that she surprised Scotty by not only accepting but returning with an arm around Edgar's waist. She pulled away from the deckboss to watch Jake Anderson pass his suit drill, but before Nick did his, she made her excuses and ducked away.

She walked down the docks towards the Time Bandit, probably heading for home. For half a minute, Scotty thought she did not see them on the deck, but she proved him wrong by stopping on a dime, shading her eyes from the sun, grinning at him, and announcing, "How long are you going to stare at me before you say hi, ya' creeps?"

Scotty grinned. "Hi."

"You just watched me schlep that cake all the way across these docks and didn't even offer to help." She shook her head playfully. "Putz."

"Sorry, what language are you speaking?" Scotty frowned at her. "I don't speak 'East Coast'." Reilly flipped him off, and Mike laughed.

"Whatever, kiddo. That's why I'll never bring _you_ a cake." She dramatically clapped her hands as if wiping herself clean of the situation and turned to walk away. "Friendship over." With that, she definitely turned her back and started walking away, humming to herself and swinging her head to the rhythm.

"Oh, hell no. You got this, Mike?" Mike nodded, so Scotty hopped the rail and scrambled to catch up with her. "Shit, woman, you're fast on those heels."

"It's a life choice," she confirmed. "If grungy men like you are going to chase after me, I need to be able to get away."

"You hurt me," Scotty snorted. He caught her arm to slow her down; as soon as his fingers closed around her wrist, he felt her stiffen and knew it was a bad idea. She reeled her hand back to hit him but caught herself. "Why do you always do that? Tense up when I touch you?"

Reilly shook her head and kept walking, Scotty at her side. "I don't know. It's a reflex, I guess."

"A reflex?"

"Long story." She dropped onto a crate to adjust her shoe. "It's a beautiful day. Let's not talk about that stuff."

"Okay," Scotty agreed, sitting next to her. They would talk about it one day, he vowed, but there was no reason it had to be right now. They had time. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask," she shrugged, "but I might not answer." Scotty raised his eyebrows. "What? I'm just warning you."

"Reilly. C'mon."

She hesitated for a moment before rolling her eyes heavenwards. "Fine," she sighed. "What d'you want to know?"

"Why not just write a novel or something? Why all the travelling to gather people's stories?"

Reilly licked her lips slowly rolled her neck back so she looked straight up at the sky. "Wow." He waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts, and Reilly did not expect that. She always had to be the patient one as she waited for people to tell their stories, but for some reason she didn't expect the roles to ever reverse.

"I don't know. I always needed to get away from…everything, y'know?" Yes, he did, actually. Scotty knew a lot about needing to get away. "So, after I dropped out of college, yes," she held her hands up so Scotty did not interrupt her at this surprise, "I dropped out. UCLA wasn't my scene. Anyway, after I decided to drop out, I caught literally the first bus out of town and ended up nowhere. Literally. Nowhere, Oklahoma. Real place." Scotty grinned, and it made her laugh. "I'm _serious_. It's real. Go there sometime. Don't, actually. It's boring as shit. But, the people are the sweetest, I swear to God. So, I started listening to their stories."

"Why?"

She shrugged, and Scotty could not help but notice the darkness that flashed through her eyes. "Maybe because I always wished someone would listen to mine."

"I could."

Reilly turned to look at him with those words, eyes filled with too many emotions that all threatened to spill out. For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to say something, but no words came and she closed her mouth. Instead, she raised a hand to his cheek, and he turned his face into it to feel her skin against his. Then, he took that hand with both of his and told her again, "I could listen."

Slowly, she shook her head. Only once, but it was enough. "Oh, Scotty," she breathed, resting her other hand over one of his so they held each other completely. "I know you want to. I just…don't know if I can tell you yet."

Rationally, he knew that should not have hurt, but something about her words felt like a wave sending him right onto his ass.

She forced out a laugh, and he could tell it was forced because of all the times he made the same sound, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. He liked her hair down, he decided, although she clearly didn't judging by all the times she pulled it back. "My sister grilled me this morning about what's 'going on' between you and me. I swear, she goes on one date and now she's suddenly an expert."

"Is there something going on between us?" Scotty frowned.

"I didn't notice anything. Did you?"

"No," he shook his head truthfully. "I just met you."

"Exactly!" Reilly nodded emphatically. "She just can't understand men and women having platonic relationships!" She shook her head. "She's such a girl. I hate girls."

"Harsh. Girls probably hate you, too."

"Oh, they do," she agreed. "Dudes are way easier. That's why I like you."

"I thought our friendship was over."

"Mmmm," she bit her lip as she considered this twist. "Friendship reinstated. I need to keep you around."

"Does that mean you'll bring me cake?"

She tossed her head back and laughed. "Don't push it. There's a truck pulling up to your boat."

"That'd be the cod. Gotta go. Duty calls."

Reilly saluted him with two fingers and stood up with him to head in the opposite directions. He lingered to watch her go, smiling as her hips swayed to the song she hummed. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her do a little one-two step as she really got into whatever song filled her head; even with all the trouble she seemed to carry with her, that woman was filled with so much life. And he couldn't seem to stay away from that.

"Damn," he muttered.

Maybe there _was_ something going on.


	9. Chapter 9

No one could ever be sure what they would find when visiting the Griffin house. When Sarah first moved in, Lorn Uklek, the aging harbor master, came by to see if this young single woman needed a hand with the dilapidated home she bought only to be greeted a blonde woman in a skirt with a bow in her hair and an axe in her hand. He knew now that she would chop her own firewood, thank you very much.

When Mike came by that evening to ask Sarah if she would please just come to the boat with him so the guys would get the hell off of his back, he found the front door wide open with a baby gate keeping Barkley safely inside.

"Hello?" he called out.

"C'mon in! Watch your face in the doorway!" Sarah called from inside.

Oooookay. Mike looked to Barkley for explanation, but the dog naturally just cocked his head to the side and wagged his tail happily at his newest friend. "Some help you are," he muttered. "Why am I watching my face?"

"TAPE!" She sounded farther away now, so Mike knew he was on his own with this. He studied the doorframe carefully until he saw the sun reflect off of something just below his eye level that stretched across the width of it. Carefully, he reached his finger out and poked the oddity, and found that it was sticky.

"Sarah?" he called out. "Can I take down the tape on your doorframe?"

There was a long pause, then, "Yeah, I have enough to redo it!"

He decided it was best not to question that answer at this point, tore down the tape, and stepped over the baby gate. Barkley did his best to trip the crabber, but Mike was used to Bering Sea waves; a sheepdog was not about to take him down. As he balled up the tape and threw it away, he studied other doorways and just barely saw light bouncing off of tape in every one of them. "What are you doing?"

Sarah popped out of the bathroom with a roll of packing tape in her hand and a devilish grin on her face. "Reilly dumped out all my conditioner and filled the bottle with yogurt, so I'm getting payback. She won't see the tape and will walk right into it. Tape to the face. Everywhere she goes."

"You two need to be stopped," Mike grinned.

Sarah giggled mischievously as she retaped the front door. "Reilly's out editing her latest book or something. I dunno; she left here muttering something about deadlines and motherfucking grammar Nazis. Perfect time to get revenge." She herded Barkley back with her foot and removed the baby gate. "Stand clear of the closing door," Sarah said to the dog in a strangely robotic voice before shutting it. Mike cocked his head to the side and frowned at her. "It's a New York thing. That voice plays at every train station. Ugh," she shuddered at the memory.

"The train?"

"Subway. Metro. Whatever. It haunts my nightmares." She tossed the tape in a drawer and used her hip to bump it closed. "Now, to what do I owe this visit?" She leaned against the kitchen island and bit her bottom lip, which Mike found entirely too adorable.

"Well," he grinned, trying to match her flirtatious by placing a hand on either side of her and leaning in so his face was just inches from hers, "you know that boat I work on?" He felt her wriggle against him, and a blush crept into her cheeks. Just to play with her a little more, he shifted his weight to bump his hips against hers.

"Mmm-hmmm," she hummed, not breaking eye contact with him. "What about it?"

He planted a soft kiss on her lips before breaking the news to her, trying to ease the anxiety he knew it would bring. "The guys," he stopped to kiss her again, "I work with," he pressed his lips just below her ear, and she moaned softly, "want to meet you."

"Do they?" She leaned her head back so Mike's mouth had more room to play along her jawline, which he took advantage of. He pressed her harder against the counter as her hands traced over his abs and up towards his chest.

"Uh-huh," he breathed against her neck. "Today, if they can."

"Now?"

"Yup."

Sarah groaned and rolled her head to rest her forehead against his. "They really know how to ruin a moment, don't they?"

"It's a special Time Bandit talent," he agreed. Sarah grinned and pressed her lips to his quickly before squirming out from between his hands.

After studying her living room for a long moment, she grabbed a burgundy track jacket and shrugged it on. "I think this is Reilly's," she grumbled, "but she shouldn't leave it lying around if she doesn't…" her nose wrinkled as she shoved her hands in the pockets. "Yup, this is Reilly's." She pulled three flashdrives out of the pocket and tossed it on the kitchen table. "Most unorganized woman…" She made another face at the technology before shaking it out of her thoughts. "Good thing I wore pants today."

"I noticed. I don't think I've ever seen you in jeans."

"They're Reilly's," she informed him. "And I've decided skinny jeans aren't my thing."

"They look good," he told her, and felt somewhat proud when it made her turn away to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Thanks," she giggled nervously, "but they're super restricting. I'm more of a boot-cut kind of girl."

He pretended to know what that meant as she looped her arm through his and led him out the door, commanding Barkley to guard the house while she was gone. Barkley seemed to take no action at the command, but Sarah hardly minded as she let Mike lead her through town towards the docks. By the time they got to the boat, Mike had warned her about every crude thing to expect from the crew, she had allowed him to slip his arm around her waist, and the guys had assembled on the deck to wait for them.

"Christ," he grumbled, removing his arm from her waist to save her that ridicule. "You guys couldn't wait the extra five seconds? Seriously?" John grinned wickedly at him.

This was as good a moment as any to get on the boat, so Mike went first and helped Sarah on. If he had to pick a word to describe how she got onboard, 'graceful' certainly would not have been it, but the guys were too distracted to notice and he didn't really care.

"There she is!" John beamed, holding his arms out for a hug. Sarah stared at him blankly and let his arms hang empty in the air, which the crew found just funny enough to want to laugh at but not funny enough to risk John's wrath over. They managed to restrain themselves with quivering smiles until John dropped his arms. Andy, taking the more sensible route, held out a hand that Sarah had no problem shaking.

"You must be Sarah. Welcome to the Time Bandit."

"Thanks." She offered a hand to John, who took it only to pull her to him, throw his other arm around her, and squeeze. She let out a squeal, immediately rammed her foot on top of his, and followed it by jamming her free hand into his stomach, sending him recoiling several steps as he gasped for air.

Mike was at her side in an instant, pulling her away from his captain with huge eyes. Scott and Andy grabbed the recently attacked crabber, Travis and Eddie shared wary glances and braced themselves for whatever may come next, and Eddie Jr. let his jaw drop as he gaped at the tiny woman who packed as much of a punch as he did.

"Jesus, Sarah!" Mike hissed, grabbing her awkwardly from the side to keep her arms pinned where they could only hurt him should she lose her mind again. "What was that?"

"I don't…" One look at her face told every man on deck there was no fear of anyone else getting hurt, though. Her eyes were as wide as a doe's, jaw trembling, and the knuckles of her attacking hand were turning red from impact. "I don't…" She tried to shake her head, but with her body trembling as much as it was, she ended up just twitching it back and forth like an animal from a cartoon that drank too much coffee.

Mike saw her eyes start to well up, taking on that familiar shine that meant waterworks were not far behind, so he twisted her in his arms so her head rested on his chest. "Shhh, it's okay," he told her, stroking her hair. With her gaze elsewhere, he looked to John and Andy to see if it really _was _okay.

His girlfriend had, after all, just attacked his captain because he jokingly tried to hug her, knocking the wind out of a middle-aged man on their first meeting. Not exactly the first impression he wanted.

Wait, his_ girlfriend_? She wasn't that. They only had one date. The guys wouldn't let him take her out again before meeting her. Relationships did not start this early.

John, still slightly winded, pushed Scotty off of him and gave Mike a short nod. Andy deferred to his brother; he was the more easy-going Hillstrand when Neal wasn't around. And, to show he was cool with his dad being attacked, or maybe for some other reason entirely, Scotty cleared his throat loudly to get her attention and asked, "Sarah, do you want me to get Reilly?"

That seemed to settle her. Sarah snapped up straight, stepped back from Mike, and found the strength somewhere to settle herself enough to shake her head normally. "No!" she told him definitively, almost desperately if Mike interpreted the slight hitch in her voice correctly. After tugging her sleeve over the heel of her hand, she wiped away the tears that still had not fallen and offered a toss of her hair and a shaky laugh. "I'm so sorry. I just…" She ran a hand over her curls and puffed out all her hair. "Jesus, I just lost my damn mind, didn't I?"

"I did kinda…did kinda come on a li'l strong," John offered with a weak half-smile.

"Well, I came on very strong, didn't I? Don't know my own strength!" she joked, and John laughed weakly at what clearly was not funny.

"Let's try this again, honey." He offered his hand, and she shook it firmly. "See?" John looked at the wary men around them. "Friends!"

"Friends," Sarah agreed. "Look, I really am sorry for attacking. That was totally uncalled for."

"Nah, don't worry about it. You didn't do anything the rest of us haven't thought about," Scotty grinned at her. Mike noted how he made eye contact with her first before slinging an arm over her shoulder. Maybe that came from dealing with Reilly, he mused. There was something with these girls. Something that made them feel like they had to fight.

"Yeah, I've wanted to knock John's lights out loads of times!" Eddie confirmed.

"Hey!" John protested. "No picking on the injured guy."

"Oh, you'll live." Travis grinned and pushed Scotty's arm off of Sarah. "C'mon, we want to show you what a slob Mike is!"

Sarah grinned, obviously intrigued at the prospect, and let Travis and the Eddies whisk her away to leave Mike and the Hillstrands on deck. They stood in heavy silence, broken only by the wind and the water lapping against the boat, until Andy cleared his throat to speak.

"Who hurt her?"

"What? No, she's fine." Mike shook his head. "A little shaken up, maybe, but she's not hurt."

John rolled his eyes. "Not today, Mikey. Overall. Look at how she reacted to that. It don't take a fucking psychologist or whatever to figure out she was trying to protect herself from someone that ain't even here."

Andy nodded. "Someone hurt her. Abused her, maybe."

"Someone did," Scotty confirmed. "Reilly, too. They're so jumpy, defensive."

"Scared of her own shadow," John confirmed. "She's a good woman, though, Mike. Just…she's going to take a lot of work. Are you up for that?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "I am. I really like her."

"It's gonna take more than 'like' to get through whatever barriers she's got up," Andy warned him. "If you hurt that girl, you'll do more damage than you ever intended." For good measure, he glanced at Scotty in case his words had more than one recipient on deck.

But Scotty never saw the look from his uncle. His eyes looked far in the distance towards a house he had only heard about at a girl he knew so well and not at all. Mike followed Andy's gaze to Scotty's face and immediately recognized the look. That look of wondering what _she_ was doing right now. He had spent way too long with that look on his face. But this girl, the one whose laughter drifted melodiously through the open door, he swore to keep with him. He could not be with her all the time, but he could do everything he could to be with her in all the time he had.


	10. Chapter 10

**I split up the Time Bandit's departure into two posts – one with Scotty/Reilly, and one with Sarah/Mike, so I'll try to get the next one up in just a day or two so they're sort of together for ya!**

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There were too many things Reilly hated in the world, and a lot of them stared her down all at once the morning of the crab fleets departure.

First and foremost, she hated editing. Carefully scanning each of the 250,000+ words she'd typed since landing on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota made her want to gouge her eyes out. For a best-selling author, she really sucked at forming coherent sentences. In rare times like this when she was in between projects, she mused that editing took longer than actually writing the book. Correcting typos and fixing tenses and trying to figure out what the hell she meant to say a year ago made her irritable, and it only agitated the fact that she had been sexiled by Sarah and Mike the night before. She normally didn't mind having to bail out because someone else was getting lucky, especially if that person happened to be her commitment-phobic sister, but there were dozens of things she would rather be doing after spending a night on an unquestioning neighbor's couch.

Which brought up the second thing she hated. Wind. She _fucking hated_ wind. Cold wind, warm wind, gale force, all of it. Light breezes that rustled the trees and sounded wind chimes were no big deal. But she hated when it tossed her slight form around, shoved her hair in her face, blew paper across town for her to chase desperately after, and generally wreaked havoc on her life. And that day, she hated that the wind was so effing cold. For all the nice weather they'd been having, Alaska finally remembered where it was geographically stationed. In New York, she would park in a non-chain coffee shop to do this so that weather did not play a factor, but that really was not an option in Dutch Harbor. Sitting in the diner here would guarantee she would never get her work done. People here were so friendly, and even though stories were her "thing", not enough really happened in her day-to-day life to warrant talking to the whole town about what happened in the twelve hours since she saw them last. She just wanted to work. She _needed_ to work.

Because of that damn deadline coming up. She fucking _hated_ deadlines. She told her agent time and time again that you could not rush creativity. It took time to get things just right. He always agreed with her right before reminding her to get that freaking manuscript in before November 1. Not that he wasn't wonderful, but Eric could really get on her nerves sometimes. He was a man with a business to run, sure, but couldn't he give her just a little leniency? Would the world end if the book arrived December 1 instead?

She grumbled at the paper on her lap, mumbling curses at her poor spelling skills as she crossed out a word in red pen. Normally, she would do this on a laptop, but as she sat on the frozen ground with the blustery wind kicking up every now and then, bringing expensive electronics into this environment did not seem particularly sane. So, she had to do this the old fashioned way with a thick stack of paper, only a margin of her soon-to-be novel, and a fresh pack of red pens. Sarah thought she was ridiculous for tackling this task today, but Reilly knew of no better way to take her mind off of things than to edit one of the stories from her book.

It was better to do that than to return home to watch the blossoming couple dwell on goodbye. She hated goodbyes. Absolutely hated them. She hated how people could leave and never come back. She hated how the kitchen smelled like chocolate cake all week because Sarah baked when she was nervous, and recently that girl was _so_ nervous. So ridiculously nervous because it was her first real good-bye in a long time, and she had to say good-bye to Mike on a day when the weather turned so sour so quickly. Sarah's nervous energy only made Reilly feel jittery thinking about Scotty going out there, and she did not like worrying that much about someone. It was much easier to edit this book than to placate her sister, who could not decide if she was more worried about Mike getting hurt at sea or coming back to realize he did not really want her. She hated seeing her sister saying good-bye.

They were inevitable, though, and even though she told Sarah to give Scotty her regards because she was not going to the boat with all the cameras that would be there, Scotty came to her. Of course he came to her, as she knew he would. Wordlessly, he settled next to her on the ground, letting her finish her paragraph. And the next. And the next. He just waited. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other, after all. Hadn't they just done shots together at the Elbow Room last night? There was not much to say. Just good-bye.

"Okay, so I'm stalling!" she blurted out finally, chucking her pen to the ground. "I don't want you to go."

Scotty chuckled and slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulder to hug her against his chest. "I know. I don't really want to go, if it helps any."

"Liar," she mumbled into his chest. "You love it out there."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I do. But, I don't like that being out there means I don't get to hang out with you anymore. I'm just getting to know you."

"Don't get all mushy on me, Scotty. I hate it when grown men cry," she warned.

"Don't act like you won't miss me." He tilted his head down to meet her eyes. "Just a little bit?"

"Maybe a little," she mused, "but I'm not going to sit around pining away over you for the next three months."

He grinned. "I didn't really expect you to, but I know it's going to kill you not to see me every day. How can you be separated from the sexiest man to walk into your life?"

"Oh-ho, someone filled up with shit at breakfast!" She pulled her head away from his chest but stayed under the security of his arm. "I've seen better looking than you, honey."

"I could say the same."

"Ah, but we've already established that you're a liar," she countered.

"Fair enough," he nodded.

"Christ, you can't even say good-bye like a normal person, can you?" he chuckled as he pulled her back to him. This time, he wrapped his other arm around to hug her. "Y'know, most girls get all teary and shit over this stuff."

"I'm not most girls," Reilly reminded him. "I mean, yeah, I'm worried you'll get hurt out there, but I could fall and break my neck on the way down this hill so worrying about you doesn't do me much good, does it?"

"Yeah, well, you're not nearly as likely to do that as I am to get hurt out there," he reminded her. "It's not even that, though. What always got Rebecca was being left behind all alone."

"Oh, I don't care that you're gone," Reilly shrugged. "I won't be here anyway."

"Where are you going?" Scotty wrinkled his nose. "You just got to town."

Reilly snorted. "Believe it or not, you're not the only person in this town that works, Scotty." She chuckled to herself and stretched her arms over her head. "I have to go down to Anchorage for a few days for a photo shoot."

"A photo shoot?"

"You're just full of questions now, aren't ya'?" she grunted as she swung her arms back down. "Yeah, a photo shoot. My publisher wants an updated picture for the dust jacket of my new book and promos and my website and stuff. I think they're even getting a sheepdog for me to pose with so it looks like I just walked out the back door, took some pictures, and went back to my tae-bo."

"Tae-bo?"

"Yes, Scotty," she rolled her eyes, "Tae-bo. That 90s exercise craze? Sarah and I work out with it together. These jeans don't fit by magic."

Scotty laughed and ran his eyes over her lower half to see exactly how those jeans fit. He decided that at least a _little _magic had to be involved. "You know, I don't think you're really famous. I'd never heard of you before."

She reached over to ruffle his hair, but he tried to duck away, so her hand grazed the top of his head in an oddly light noogie that made them both laugh. "Yeah, well, authors aren't exactly paparazzi magnets, Scotty. I'm, like, an E-lister on the celebrity scale. They're not exactly following Anne Rice or JK Rowling around, either, are they?"

"Good point," Scotty agreed.

"You know, I don't think _you're_ really famous, Mr. TV Man. They're hardly following you around, either. I see all these cameras swarming the docks, but none of them seem to give two shits about you. Hell, none of them seem to give _one_ shit about you."

"You hurt me, Reilly." Scotty grabbed his heart as if he'd been shot, so Reilly made her fingers into the shape of a gun and blew on it. "If you're E-list, I'm probably…I dunno, H-List?" He chuckled. "Is that even a thing?"

"It's not," Reilly grinned. "But, you're probably more famous than me. If we're comparing fan bases, more people are lining up for your autograph than mine."

"I hate autographs," he grumbled.

"Y'know, when I was, like, fourth grade, my teacher would punish us by making us sign our name one hundred times," she mused.

"Bet you had to sign your name _a lot_."

"Shut up!" she insisted with a wide grin. "I did." Scotty pumped a fist at his accurate character portrayal, so she flipped him off. "I signed it a-fucking-_ton_. And I hated every second of it." She wrinkled her nose. "Not enough to stop hiding the class turtle, though."

"Seriously, woman? A defenseless animal?"

"Says the crab fisherman!" she retorted. "You're about to risk your life to catch _defenseless animals_, and you're going to scold me for giving one little turtle temporary adventures?"

"You were a menace as a child, weren't you?"

She grinned mischievously and nuzzled further into his chest. "Mmmmaybe just a little."

"Why are you out here?"

"'Scuse me?"

Scotty pulled his head back to meet her gaze, which she turned up towards him at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Why are you sitting on this hill instead of, I dunno, coming to the boat or hanging out with Sarah or whatever?"

"Oh." That was it. Just that one word for several long moments. She shifted out of his grasp to sit up on her own and slid her hands through the grass to find the pen she unceremoniously tossed earlier. "Sarah needed to be alone. I mean, I didn't want to be around her nervous energy anyway, but she pretty clearly needed some space to collect herself. I think she's so used to being left behind that she doesn't like people seeing her in those weak moments." She bit her lip. "Sarah really likes Mike."

Scotty nodded. "Good, because he really likes her, too. I've seen him with women before, but never like this. Not that…" Scotty frowned. "Wait, no, not that he's going around with a bunch of…ignore that…" Great, now he was tripping all over his words just like Mike. Perfect.

Reilly tilted her head back and laughed, face catching the muted winter sunlight. "It's fine. But…well, I just hope Mike really cares about her, because Sarah and I aren't exactly the easiest girls to be with."

"No-oo!" Scotty said sarcastically.

Reilly rolled her eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder. "Not like _that_, asshole. I think the term is, uh…shit…"

"No, that's not the term. Maybe 'weird'?" Scotty supplied. Reilly shot him a look.

She snapped her fingers as it came to her. "Damaged goods."

Maybe some people would have shied away at that, but Reilly happened to be sitting next to some fairly damaged goods, and Scotty did not budged. Instead, he just shrugged, which surprised her. "Eh, who isn't a little damaged nowadays? Did she tell you about punching my old man the other day?"

He expected Reilly to find some humor in the situation, but she did not. Her face remained solemn as she braced against a biting wind that he felt through the hoodie he threw on when John told the guys they had an hour to themselves before prepping for departure.

"Yeah, she told me. He shouldn't have done that."

"Tried to hug her? Yeah, I know, but he just wanted to hug a pretty girl. It's how he is. He loves to play up that dirty old man image, y'know?"

"It freaked her the fuck out," Reilly shook her head. "I know he's your dad and all, but seriously."

"Hey," he leaned forward to catch her eye and then rested a hand on her elbow. "He didn't know. He wouldn't have tried it if he knew." Not that Scotty was exactly sure what his old man didn't know about Sarah that set her off, but he was starting to get an idea. "It was an honest mistake."

Reilly took a calming breath and slowly nodded. "Yeah, true, but not everyone sees it like that. I just don't want her to get hurt."

"You're pretty protective of her, huh? I mean, I've heard twins are real close and all, but I didn't realize how much."

"I guess I am," Reilly mused. "I owe it to her. She protected me for so long…She deserves a little protection now."

Scotty leaned towards her. "Protected you from what?"

Reilly shook her head and stayed quiet until the wind died down. "Have you ever seen the movie _Grease_?"

The subject change threw him, but he went with it. She would explain in her own way and in her own time as long as he gave her the space she needed; he had learned that much about her. "Yeah," he chuckled. "It was Rebecca's favorite movie."

"Yeah, who is she exactly?" Reilly asked. "That's the second time you've mentioned her today."

"My ex." Which was probably glazing over things a bit.

"Mmmm," she hummed in understanding. "Well, there's this scene where, um, oh, the girl with the weird hair…"

"Frenchie?"

"Yeah," she nodded emphatically. "Her. Well, she and the, uh, the main girl-"

"Sandy?" he supplied with a grin.

"Shut up; I fucking hate this movie. I don't know their names."

"Fair enough." He motioned her on.

"So, Sandy was all upset over…her douchebag boyfriend, and…Freeeenchieee?" He nodded. "Frenchie told her to, like, take a pill and cool it and that the only guy a girl could trust was her father. Remember that?" Scotty nodded even though he didn't _quite_ remember the scene playing out that way. He remembered the dad line, though, which seemed to be the important part of her point. "Well, let's just say that we never had that."

She let out a huge sigh and wrapped her slender fingers around her ponytail as Scotty tried to figure out what to say. She obviously did not want to go into it – she'd made that very clear earlier – but the silence made him feel awkward. He watched her run her fingers through her hair, searching for words, when he caught a flash of black on her neck.

"Are you inked?" he gaped.

"Oh! Yeah!" She beamed and pulled her ponytail aside to show the tattoo on the back of her neck. "I have five, but this was my first."

"Back of the neck for your first tat? Ballsy."

"I had my nose, belly button, and nipple pierced already. I was just stupid enough at nineteen to think drawing on my spinal cord with a needle was a good idea."

"Which nipple?"

Reilly grinned wickedly. "Right."

"Nice. What's the tat say?"

"It says 'I gcònaì'. Gaelic for 'always'."

"Why Gaelic?" he asked, taking over the task of holding her hair so he could look at thumb-length phrase at the base of her neck.

"Seriously? My name is Reilly Griffin, I'm ginger, I'm pasty as shit, and you're asking why my tattoo is in Gaelic?" She chuckled and turned to look at him. "My mom was from Ireland. I got it as a memorial sort of thing."

"That's sweet. Did, um, did something happen to her?"

Reilly opened her mouth to answer, but, as if on cue, that Alanis Morisette song, the one about being a bitch and a lover that Scotty couldn't stand, cut her off. "Shit," she swore, fumbling to her pocket for her phone. "That's Sarah. She doesn't call. She texts, she never calls. It must be important. I'm sorry. I have to…" She waved her iPhone.

Scotty smiled softly and nodded. Of course he did not want to be interrupted, not now when he felt so close to her and was so close to leaving, but family always came first. "Do what you have to do."

Reilly gave a relieved, thankful smile and answered. "Hey, Sis, what's up?" Her face immediately twisted with concern. "Hey…Hey! Woah, Sarah, slow down." She leaned foreward as if that would help her understand, and Scotty leaned towards her to maybe figure out what was going on. "He ate _what_?!...How'd he get that? OH!" Her eyes felw open, and she covered her mouth. "Oh my God." Her hand went to the back of her neck, covering the tattoo they had just talked about. "I left it on the coffee table. Sar, I'm so sorry!...No, it is my fault…He needs what?...Yeah, no, of course they need the money first. A stomach pump is expensive as shit. Look, I'll be right there." She grabbed her bag and fumbled with the zipper, so Scotty took it from her and opened it. She smiled in thanks, pulled out a check book, and dropped it back in. "Yeah, I have my check book. I'm near the docks; I'll be right there."

She hung up and scrambled to her feet. "Barkley, our dog, he ate a microbead pillow. I-I have to get to the animal hospital to pay for the stomach pump."

He stood up with her. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Thank you, but, no. I've got it." She tried to breeze by, but Scotty caught her hand and pulled her back. She flinched as if to hit him, but when she saw his face, she relaxed."

"Your bag."

"Right. Of course. Duh." Still holding on to him, she took her oversized purse from the bench.

'You okay?" he asked. She let out a shaky laugh.

"Yeah, Scotty, I'm okay."

"Okay. Good luck." He gently pressed his lips to her forehead and smoothed her hair.

"Thanks." She smiled softly, gave his hand a squeeze, and turned her back. She thought better of leaving, though, turned back around, grabbed her manuscript, and threw it in her purse. Then, she flung her arms around him, catching him totally by surprise. "Stay safe out there, Scotty."

He returned her hug, taking in her now-familiar scent. "You, too. I'll be back before you know it." He kissed her forehead again before letting her go. She hesitated with one hand still wrapped around his wrist, so he cocked his head towards town. "Go save your dog, Reilly."

Her eyes grew wide, as if she just remembered Barkley's condition. "Right!" She rolled onto her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek and took off towards town, still surprising Scotty with her speed in heels.


	11. Chapter 11

**I didn't really have time to get back to reviews individually the past couple days, so thank you guys now for them! I've got a CRAZY work schedule this week, so don't know when the next post will be. I'll do what I can, but it could be a while. Sorry!**

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It took a lot of willpower not to yank a pillow over her head when the early morning sunlight shone directly in her eyes. Sarah groaned because, once she was aware of the sun, she could no longer ignore it. But, she couldn't move, either, not with Mike's arm wrapped around her waist. She wanted the bright Alaskan sun gone, but she didn't want him to stop drawing unintelligible patterns on her back, either.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," she informed him hoarsely.

"I know I'm pretty awesome at this, but no woman has ever told me that before."

Sarah snorted. "I'm sure they've never told you how fucking smooth you are, either. Nice one."

Mike mumbled incoherently and pressed his lips to her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut to enjoy the moment without the light ruining it only to have Mike stop to say, "I'm not even sure what I said wrong that time."

"You want to elaborate even more on all the women that have been in a position to comment on your sexual prowess, Mikey?"

There was a pause that she gleefully relished in. Even with her eyes closed, she could see the blank look on his face as his mind rewound their conversation to figure out what she meant. This, of course, required his complete concentration to the point that the rest of him froze. She knew he had it figured out when he went back to making circles on her back and kissed her neck again. "That's not what I meant," he said finally.

"And that wasn't what I meant, either. It's the sun. In my eyes. It's like the light at the end of the tunnel or the pearly gates or something holier than thou. Not that last night wasn't wonderful, babe, but there are more pressing issues right now."

"I can accept that. If you want, I could close the curtain," he suggested through a yawn.

"Mmm, no, don't move." She shook her head. "I am _way_ too comfortable right now."

Mike laughed. "You know, I have to leave soon."

"No, didn't I tell you? You're not going crabbing this season. I'm keeping you forever."

"Oh, well, in that case, I guess I won't ask to borrow your shower."

Sarah groaned as his fingers focused just below her ribcage. "No, you can still do that. I'll help."

Mike laughed again. "Sounds like a good plan. What're these scars from?"

It had not occurred to her, not once, that he would see them. How she could have overlooked that, she did not know. It seemed obvious now that he mentioned it that, lying naked next to him gave a perfect view of her very imperfect back. Even if she overlooked that, feeling his fingers on that skin should have reminded her. Of course, it was too late now. There could be no hiding the pale, puckered circles scattered across the middle of her back.

He felt her tense beneath him, so he stopped running his fingers along the burn scars he had been casually tracing. "You know what, forget I-"

"Cigarette burns," she interrupted. And with the words, her tension disappeared. Her whole body relaxed again, molding effortlessly to fit to the curve of his body. Now that she seemed calm, he went back to making circles on her back, which seemed to relax her even more.

"How'd you get so many?"

"My father. They're all on my back so no one could see them."

"Wait…wait, he did this on _purpose_?"

Sarah nodded. "Mmm-hmm. It's not as bad as you think."

That made his temper flare, and he had to roll onto his back and press his palms over his eyes to keep himself calm. "How is it _not bad, _Sar? It's…it's…he…he abused you!" The thought of anyone hurting her, let alone someone who was supposed to care and protect her more than anyone else, made his face flush hot with anger. All he wanted to do was find this man and make him feel every bit of pain he ever caused his daughter.

Daughters. The realization hit him like an anvil in the old Road Runner cartoons. He had two girls, not one. And he knew her answer before she said it.

"If he did it to me, he didn't do it to Reilly."

It amazed him how calm she could be talking about this. As she rolled to face him and ran her hand up his arm to pull one of his hands off of his face. At her urging, he laced his fingers through hers and forced himself to take some deep breaths to calm down and think about things. If she was willing to talk about it, he should be willing to listen. How many other people had she tried to tell this to? Probably not many. Getting upset could not do anything good.

"I had to protect her. Reilly's tough now, but she's only that way because of what we went through as kids. She's not…" Sarah looked off into the distance and shook her head. "I'm the older sister. I had to keep her safe, and if that meant taking a few blows, then that's what I had to do." She rested her chin on his chest as she continued. "Not that she always got away, but I took as much of it as I could for her." She cocked her head slightly and studied his face. "You look confused."

"Not confused." He shook his head. "Just trying to process everything. It just seems that Reilly would be the one, um, protecting you. It's just strange wrapping my head around what it must have been like for you."

Sarah surprised him by smirking. "Yeah, it's not what you would expect, is it? She's the edgy one who goes running off everywhere, and I'm the one who bakes and wears bows and dresses. But, I know I told you once that I pretty much raised her; I made sure she could do whatever she wanted. And she…wanted to run. She wanted to get as far away from our father as she possibly could, and, as much as I loved her, I wanted her gone, too. For her safety. Every time he hit her, and he hit her a lot, I felt like I let her down."

"Sarah, that's ridiculous!" Mike exclaimed. He reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear, and she leaned her cheek into his hand. "You were a kid; what were you going to do?"

"I know," she murmured, planting a soft kiss on his palm. "I know, and I don't think like that anymore. I'm just saying that I'm glad Reilly runs off all over the place, doing what she does. I wish she felt like she could settle down now, but I can't blame her. We're both still dealing with what he did to us."

Mike ruffled her hair. "That's why you punched out my captain."

"Oh!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "I thought we agreed to not talk about that."

"Who agreed to that? Did I agree to that? I never agreed to that," he teased.

Sarah buried her face in his chest to hide her blush, and he laughed. She looked back up with a broad grin. "Yeah, it was. I don't do well with people getting all touchy feely. I need my space until I feel comfortable. I'm better than Reilly, but I have my moments. She's pretty jumpy overall because she could never quite tell what would set him off; I'm better at judging what might be a threat. I just, y'know, overreact...a little…sometimes."

"A little," he agreed. "But, it's not like anyone can blame you for it. Have you ever talked to someone about it? Like, a professional, I mean."

"I did for a little," she yawned. "But, I didn't want to keep bringing it up all the time. It hurt more to talk about it for an hour every week than it did to deal with it on my own. I mean, therapy did help, but I can get by without it."

"You did punch my captain."

"Stop bringing it up!" she insisted. "You can just shower by yourself!"

After eating and cleaning up, Sarah walked with him to the boat. She hesitated just before the boat, taking in Chris casually filming Travis talking to someone on a sat phone. Mike, sensing her apprehension, stopped with her.

"They film most of what we do, but they're pretty good about staying out of our lives if we ask them to," he told her.

"It's not that," she shook her head. "I was just thinking of how weird this must be for you. To actually have someone _here_ to say good-bye to. Do you normally have to do that?" She motioned towards Travis.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, it's normally just phone calls. But, I, uh, I don't really have that many people to say good-bye to, just my parents and my sister."

"Well," she wrapped her arms around his neck, "now you have someone else."

He grinned and caught her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. "I do. But now I don't really want to leave."

"I told you, I can keep you forever," she warned him, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "Don't tempt me."

He bumped her nose with his to tease his mouth against hers. "But it's so much fun," he said, lips brushing against hers with every word. She giggled and tried to deepen it into a real kiss, but he pulled his head back to match how she reached for him. "See, this is fun."

"I hate you," she laughed.

"I lo-"

Before he could say it, she shoved two fingers over his lips, effectively cutting off his chances of forming coherent words. "Don't. Don't say that yet. When you're back and you're sure, then say it. Not when you've known me a week and you're leaving for two months."

"Two weeks. We've got an offload," he corrected.

"Mike!" she snapped, stomping her foot for added emphasis that only made him grin. "This is serious."

"Oh, sorry, right, serious." He used his hand to wipe the smile off of his face and mimed tossing it aside, which made her roll her eyes. "I'm serious. Keep going."

"Just don't say it yet. I want you to be sure first."

"I'm sure," he promised her, finally meeting her gaze with serious eyes. "I'm completely sure of this. You don't have to worry that I'm going to change my mind."

"No, Mike, you don't understand." She took a step away from him and looked heavenward for strength that did not come to her. "I didn't come up here because I felt that Dutch Harbor was the place to be. Like, 'New York, that's boring, no-oo, fuck that shit, I am going to live in Dutch Harbor, Alaska. _That _is exciting!' That's not what happened. You know that. I'm running."

"From what? Your father? I thought you said he's out of your life."

"He is. It's not just him. It's a lot of things. Well, it's mostly him. I don't know. It's just…I just reached a point where I realized that even though I was in New York, in a different part where everything was new, and I had this big grown-up life, I was still so stuck. Y'know, the wrong subway stop or a street sign or a taxi cab ad would just bring all of those things back. I needed to get away. And…and Reilly and I have always had this attitude that you don't half-ass things. If you're going to do it, you do it as best you can. And, it turns out that I'm pretty damn good at running, 'cuz here I am. I went as far away from New York as possible. If I could have afforded Hawaii, I would be there, trust me. But, here I am because I needed to…go away. And you can't get much more _away_ than here. And I'm…I'm here…at the end of the world…but…I don't think it's far enough."

"Well, how much farther do you think you need to go? I mean, this is Dutch Harbor. If you can't get away here, I don't think you can get away anywhere."

"Yeah, but, that's the thing. I'm not running from a person. I'm running from memories. I, I am running from myself because I can't forget the things that have happened to me. I have to live with them and face them. I can't make them go away, and I thought that coming up here and starting fresh, not having those constant reminders, would be enough, but it's not. It's not enough. And…an-and that's why I'm shit at this Mike. That's why I can't give you what I want to. Because I have never been able to do that. I thought that maybe coming up here and starting over would help me figure out how to feel things and act on them. And I feel _so much_, Mike, I do. I can't put words to it or explain it, and I can't let you know how I feel because I-I don't understand it myself. I was never around people that loved each other, and I've never had anyone love me other than Reilly. Anyone else who ever said it was lying or changed their mind or was wrong about it. And, Christ, that's just messed me up, Mike. I'm just gonna fuck it up. Every relationship I've ever had is just so _fucked up_. And that's why…that's why I'm scared."

"I love you, too."

"I told you not to say that! And, I-I didn't say that, either, Mike."

"No, Sarah, you kind of…you kind of did, actually. You said it. I mean, not knowing how to show it and not having the words, and all that? That's love. It's crazy, because I got hurt real bad not that long ago, and I didn't think I'd be able to do this again. Because, I…I can't run, not like you. When shit hit the fan, I couldn't go away because this world? This is my life. This is what I do. And when she left me for Andy-"

"You were with _Christina_?" Sarah's eyes widened with surprise as she tried to picture that couple, but she found no twinge of jealousy. Maybe it was because she saw how Chris and Andy were, but she did not feel any urge to mark her territory publicly. If Mike was her "territory". She knew, though, that her uncharacteristic calmness towards this news had nothing to do with Chris. It was because she knew Mike well enough to see that whatever might have been between them was gone now. He had given himself to her, and that was just _so_ terrifying.

"Yeeeah, but I don't think it was ever real. I was…the guy who wasn't Andy. And when she realized that that's all I was and she was only with me because she couldn't wrap her head around how she felt about Andy, she went to him. That's cool because they're clearly meant to be together; I never even considered messing that shit up. But…watching her go to him and knowing that I shouldn't stop it because he deserved her…I didn't think I would ever get over that. But here I am. And how I felt about her can't even hold a candle to how I feel about you, and that scares the shit out of me, too, Sarah. It really fucking scares me. And that's why we need to try this. Because we're scared. And because we've been hurt before. We have to, because otherwise we'll never get over that fear. We'll just have regrets, and there's nothing scarier than having regrets. So, I'm going to say it again, and I'd really like it if you'd say it back to me since I'm leaving town in a few hours and won't be back for two months."

"Two weeks," she corrected in a tiny voice. Mike smiled softly.

"I love you, Sarah."

"I love you, Mike."


	12. Chapter 12

**So, this is ridiculously short, but I'm posting again later today to make up for how freaking long I've made you guys wait! Sorry about that! I didn't forget about this story, I swear! (Okay…maybe I forgot **_**a little**_**…) I'm back at school now, so things are kinda crazy with classes starting today, but I'm gonna get this back on track.**

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"Apple crisp."

"We don't have apples," Reilly grunted without looking up from her laptop.

"Gobs."

"No."

Sarah wrinkled her nose at the measuring cups in her hands. "Three-tier wedding cake."

"Sarah, no one is getting married. Calm the fuck down!" Reilly finally burst.

"I know," Sarah answered in a small voice. She stuck her bottom lip out at her sister, the sure-fire way to win Reilly over. "Just because it's a wedding cake doesn't mean it has to be for a wedding. I just want to make one."

"Who is going to eat all that cake, Sar-Bear? I'm not eating all that cake. You've barely eaten _anything_ since Mike left. And we already have a tray of brownies and two pies I can't even get the neighbors to take 'cuz we've given them so much already. You've either got to open your own bakery to deal with your separation-anxiety baking habit or taking up, like, knitting."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm worried about him, Reilly!" Sarah huffed. She flounced to the couch to sit, but Reilly took up the whole thing, so she smacked her sister's legs until Reilly rolled her eyes and moved her feet. Sarah dropped down and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know how you stay so calm with Scotty out there in that storm."

"I'm not calm," Reilly muttered to her laptop. "When I heard about the storm on the crab grounds, I freaked. But I just got back from Anchorage. I'm fucking exhausted, and that trumps nervous any day of the week."

Sarah had no clever response to that, so she settled for scratching Barkley's head as the injured sheepdog settled into a seated position at her side. "You still owe me a pillow for the one you left out for Barkley to eat," she mumbled.

"You want to go buy one right now. Name three places in this town that sell microbread pillows. Fuck, name one."

"That's why I told you to get me one in Anchorage. You forgot."

"I was working," Reilly reminded her.

"Well, maybe I'll forget to feed you tomorrow."

"Woman, I'm beginning to wish I was on that fucking boat with them right now. You're getting ridiculous."

"I told him."

"Who?" Reilly frowned, but Sarah kept her eyes on Barkley, who was the calmest he had been since the move to Alaska. "Told who what? That I didn't buy you a new pillow? I knew you were secretly a snitch."

Sarah snorted. "Not that, dumbshit. I told Mike about dad."

Reilly was quiet for a moment that stretched out for a long time, but Sarah could not be sure if her twin stayed silent because of some internal issue or because her focus needed to stay entirely on the newest round of editing work she had to do. Finally, Reilly stopped typing and let out a small, "Oh," that sounded much more nonchalant that she felt. "That's good."

"You should tell Scott."

"I'm not dating Scott."

Sarah grinned. "I didn't accuse you of that, did I? But, you two are getting pretty close, _as friends_," she emphasized as Reilly gave her a sharp look, "and with how much you two clearly care about each other, _as friends_, you should tell him. He deserves to know for all the time he spends putting up with you."

Reilly wrinkled her nose. "I'll think about it."

"They come in for an offload in two days, Reils. You better think about it quick."


	13. Chapter 13

The Time Bandit just finished their offload when Sarah got word that the boys were back in town. Just for one more day to wait out the storm. As soon as her coworker from the bakery texted her that she saw the boat through the thin fog filling the seaside town that night, she was out the door, headed for the docks. She managed to keep from running, although she desperately wanted to, but she still got to the boat much faster than it ever seemed to take her in the past. And there was Mike on deck, making some joke with Eddie Sr. at John's expense.

Scotty saw her first from his spot near the rail and nodded her way. He held up a pack of cigarettes in offering, but she held her hand up. Reilly was the Griffin that had an on-again-off-again flirtation with nicotine, not her, but she still appreciated the offer.

"Any chance I'll get my man soon?" she asked. Scott frowned comically to show he really didn't know and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey, Captain! This hot blonde is here for Mike. He free to go for the night?"

"Hot blonde?" John's voice floated from somewhere she couldn't see. "Don't tell his girlfriend."

"Seriously?" Mike piped up; the frustration in his voice made her laugh. "Now you're just trying to get me in trouble."

"Dude, if she likes you enough to be here at night when we all smell like crab, nothing we say could possibly scare her away," Travis pointed out. His face popped over the rail into her line of sight, and he grinned at her. "Hey, Sarah!"

"Hey, Travis." She smiled back and offered a little wave. "How'd it go?"

"Weather's shit out there." He shrugged. "Nothing new."

Mike grabbed Travis's shoulder and moved him out of the way, and everyone could see the way Sarah's face lit up at the sight of him. "Hey, sorry you had to deal with these guys. I got the okay to go."

"I want you back at seven on the fucking dot!" John reminded him sharply as he came into view. "Hi, Sarah!"

"Hi, Johnathan," she smiled. "I'll get him back to the boat on time, I promise."

"Don't you wear him out, either," John warned her, pointing a menacing finger at her that made Scotty snort at just how non-threatening he really was.

"Mmmm, I'm not gonna make any promises on that one."

Mike laughed as the guys erupted into "Oooo"s and "hey-hey"s behind him at her quick retort, and he jumped to the dock, wrapped her waist in his arms, and caught her mouth in a swift kiss. She sighed into him, her body pressing against his in a way he hadn't realized he'd missed until that moment, and he only pulled away because of Travis's, "Keep the docks PG, Fourtner, holy shit!"

But, even as Sarah led Mike towards home, Reilly was somewhere else entirely. Not at the boat. She knew she should go see Scott, but something about seeing him made her stomach twist into this little knot that she didn't want to understand. So, she instead sat on her hillside. She liked to sit on the hard-packed earth and watch the clouds float by overhead, although that particular night she had to settle for watching the fog swirl around her. Occasionally, she drew her hand through it to make it wisp and twist around her fingers.

He found her, though, as she suspected he would. He knew that she liked to go there to keep her head clear, after all. So, she was not at all surprised when she saw him jog up the hill towards her, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Nice of you to come see me," he joked. She rolled her eyes and stood up to accept the hug he offered. His arms felt warm around her, but she forced herself to pull away when the time came.

"How was it out there?"

He shrugged. "Fine. How was Anchorage?"

"Fine."

"It was shit, wasn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "I have to do another round of editing, and my one-hour photo shoot took two days because my publisher hated the backdrop. Fishing was shit, right?"

"That storm really fucking slammed us. I don't think I've been dry in five days."

Reilly nodded in understanding. She shoved her hands in her back pockets, and the conversation shifted into an awkward silence. Thinking back, she could not remember them ever having an awkward silence before, but they definitely had one now; she couldn't quite look at him, he couldn't quite look at her, she couldn't think of anything to say, neither could he.

"Sorry I didn't come see you," she blurted. Scotty half-grinned.

"Whatever. I expect from you now. I don't know why you never want to talk to me, but it's cool."

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you!" she insisted. "I just…I don't know. It just felt…weird. I dunno how to explain it."

"Well, if you can't explain it, I sure I as hell can't, either."

She shook her head and looked up at the sky. "It's not you, I swear."

"Wow, okay, are we breaking up now?"

"You're getting dramatic," she insisted. Scott growled, but he forced himself not to yell the things he wanted to say. He couldn't see her taking well to getting screamed at, even if he just wanted to shake her right now.

"Reils, I just don't get how we can be friends, but then you don't even act like I exist when fishing gets involved. Seriously. What the fuck?"

"Do you know how easy it is to run away?" Scotty did, actually, but he could tell by the distance in her eyes Reilly's mind was too far away to see him nod. "That's all I've ever been able to do. Run. They can't even hurt me now, but I still can't stay in one place. It's like they're following me or something. I can never get away."

"From who?" he asked softly, wrapping her hand in his. Finally, he might actually be getting somewhere real with her, and he was not about to let his temper ruin that. "Who hurt you, Reilly?"

She let out a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut against the memories flooding through her. "My father. He used to, um…he was great when he was sober. Perfect. He built us tree houses and took us to the zoo and all that shit. We had really good times." She nodded slowly at a memory he could not figure out, and then she sniffed back a wave of emotions before continuing on.

"But when he drank, he was terrible, Scotty. When he would go out, we would hide so he couldn't find us when he got home. That just made him angrier, though, and if he did find us…" She trailed off and shook her head, hand shaking frantically. Scotty tightened his grip on her hand, which seemed to steady her. "Sarah would protect me. Whenever he'd turn on me, she'd get in the way. She couldn't be there every time, and I think she still beats herself up for that, but she took a lot of beatings for me. He, uh, he knew not to hit our faces or to grab our wrists or anything that would show. But, he left his marks. My tattoo, the 'Rise Above'," she motioned to words he had just caught a glimpse of once or twice when the side of her shirt rose up to expose the side of her stomach, "it covers the cigarette burns. And Sarah has…well," Reilly shook her head, "she has her scars, too."

"Didn't your mom ever stop him?"

"She couldn't," Reilly shook her head, squeezing his hand back for another burst of strength. "She was sick, cancer, died when we were six. He was never bad until she was gone. It felt like he blamed us for it."

He waited for her to say more, but nothing came. He did not have much experience with crying women – his ex had the habit of locking herself away when she felt the waterworks coming on – but even his untrained eye could see by the tightness in her jaw and her heavy swallows that she was fighting too strongly against her tears to talk. So, knowing this was not the type of woman that wanted coddled, he did the only thing he could think of to calm her down. He talked. After all, he was good at that. A family trait.

"I knew ever since I was a little kid that my dad never wanted me. That's why he just let my mom go and was hardly ever there even when he wasn't fishing and never knew how to act around my sister and me. Things started to change when I was, like, early teens, maybe, but it was just because he realized he actually had a son to pass the boat on to. He still didn't want me. He just wanted to carry on the Hillstrand name. So, I tried to get as far away from him as I could. I went to the east coast, tried to do my own thing, and you know how far I got? I ended up fishing." Reilly turned on him with wide eyes. "Yeah, I know, right? Across the fucking country, cursing his damn name, and all I knew how to do was fish. But, I kept coming back to Seattle to see my mom and my sister, and then I met Rebecca and had Sawyer and ended up moving back. And, one day, he just reached out like maybe he actually cared, and he caught me at a time I was willing to listen. I love him now, but I spent most of my life hating that man and swearing I would never be anything like him. Now, I'm exactly like him in all the worst ways and none of the good ones. I lost my wife, she took my son…I don't have a damn thing to call my own. I don't even have a real claim to the family boat yet, even though there's this part of me that's still convinced he only wants me around to keep the legacy going."

"So," he tossed his cigarette onto the hard ground and stomped it out, "if you ever write about this fucking town, you can put that shit in your book. Maybe you can't write your own story, but you're not the only one with a shit dad. You can write mine."

"Scotty, I'm so sorry," she breathed. She wanted to tell him how much he was like John in a good way, but she couldn't. She didn't know John well enough. She could only imagine. She didn't know, and Scott knew that. She just did what she could, what helped her, and that was letting him know she was there, really there, by reaching out for him. Her cool fingers fluttered over the exposed skin of his forearm, and it was hard for him to tell if her temperature, the harbor breeze, or her touch was what made him shiver.

"S'okay," he mumbled, staring uncomfortably at his shoes as he kicked a rock away from him. It had been a long time since he felt so exposed and vulnerable, and he forgot how awkward it made him feel.

As if she could sense his unease, Reilly let go of him. Instead, she took off her jacket, grabbed the collar of her shirt, and pulled it to the side to fully expose the tattoo on her shoulder blade that he had only seen glimpses of. It was small, maybe the size of his fist, but the sun inked into her skin seemed to burst into life from the center point, rays spreading out from the middle in a style reminiscent of the Native American designs in the museum that Sawyer loved so much.

"I was shot recently."

"What?!" he exclaimed, shifting focus between the tattoo and the side of her face as she craned her head around to look at him over her shoulder.

"Yeah, just before I moved up here. I was on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Most people don't know it, but some of the Native reservations have serious gang problems, and this kid told me his story of getting mixed up in one that he couldn't get out of. Word spread to the wrong people that I knew some shit I shouldn't know, I'm walking home one night, and next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital a day and a half later. Once I recovered, my sister insisted I come up here, and…well, I hadn't gotten that badly hurt in a long time, and it freaked me out. So, I listened to her. And here I am."

"You got _shot_?"

"Yeah," she nodded, letting go of her collar. Scotty grabbed it, though, and pulled it aside again so he could run his fingers over the scar. She quivered under his touch, and they both felt it. "Just a little."

"Oh, well, if you were only shot _a little_…" he teased.

Reilly turned her head to stick her tongue out at him over her shoulder, but as soon as their eyes met, she became acutely aware of just how close Scotty really was. He slid his hand up so his palm pressed against her scar, curled his fingers over her shoulder, and gently tugged her towards him without breaking her gaze.

"What's happening right now?" she breathed.

"I have no idea," he admitted, his hot breath bouncing off of the exposed skin of her neck.

She twisted under his grip to face him, hesitating when faced with how close they really were. Sensing her uncertainty, Scotty made the first move, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She granted him entrance to her mouth, letting him control the kiss as he pulled her body flush against his. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other exploring the curve of her hips, and her fingers naturally snaked through his hair as the kiss intensified. She could taste his need so strongly that it made her stomach flutter, and the sudden heat of her skin certainly did not come from the Alaskan night.

When his mouth broke away from hers, she immediately felt the loss, only to moan in pleasure when he trailed kisses along her jawline until finding a spot just by her ear that sent a shiver through her. Her grip in his hair tightened as her stomach fluttered again, and she tilted her head back to give him more access. He grinded his hips against her in response, but somehow she still felt like she needed him closer.

An alarm went off in her head, warning her to stop now before this went too far, before she needed him too much, but she ignored the voice that had been haunting her for far too long. Instead, she pulled his face back up and caught his lips with hers much stronger than she anticipated. Dimly, it occurred to her that her lips would bruise from this. Worth it.

The hand around her waist slipped under the hem of her tank top. She gasped as his calloused palm touched the bare flesh of her lower back, and Scotty swallowed it with another urgent kiss.

Reilly was used to being in control of situations like this, but she most certainly was not in control of anything to do with Scott Hillstrand. She craved his touch too desperately; when he pulled away for air, she missed the feel of his lips against hers too strongly; she needed him too much. This was not how things were supposed to be, and, had his scent not been filling her senses so strongly that she could no longer think clearly, she would have been terrified by that.

Instead, as his mouth travelled back to that spot and made her knees go weak, she found the strength to ask, "Where?"

Scotty pulled his head away momentarily, replacing the warmth of his mouth with the cool evening breeze. Not a trade she particularly wanted to make, but at least he still held her closely. "The boat," he decided finally, tugging her towards the Time Bandit.

"Isn't there some…I dunno, some rule or something?" she frowned. She could have sworn she overhead John, Andy, and Chris talking about a 'no sex on the boat' policy of some sort.

"Something like that," he confirmed as he swung aboard. "C'mon." He offered his hands out to help her on, but she had become surprisingly adept at this rail-jumping deal now.

Her feet barely hit the deck before his hands were on her waist again, crushing her lips to his. He led her to his room purely by instinct; Scotty never realized when he said that he could find his way through the boat blind that the skill may one day come in handy. The stateroom was definitely not big enough for what they wanted, what they needed, but it would have to do.

He kicked the door shut and pinned her against it, teasing the sensitive skin of her stomach by grazing his fingertips along the hem of her shirt. Reilly moaned into his mouth and looped her fingers through his beltloops, tugging him closer so she could fumble with the button of his jeans.

He pulled his head back to look her at her and found that her eyes were even darker than usual, a deep blue rich with desire and accented by her flushed cheeks. "Are you sure?" he breathed.

And, at least for that moment, she was sure. She was more sure of this than of anything else she had ever done. Something about Scotty Hillstrand – his boyish grin or damaged past or safe arms – made her lose herself, and she wanted to get lost in him. She could lose herself as easily as she lost her shirt and those annoying boots and that bra, after his eyes lit up at the fact that it was front-clasping and she briefly realized that Sarah was probably right when she said Reilly knew all along that this would happen.

All she wanted was Scotty. All she needed was Scotty. Nothing else mattered. Not publishing deadlines or shitty pasts or scars or anything. Just him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Soooo, I decided to take a gander at my original outline for this (1-yes, I did just say "take a gander", 2-the fact that I outlined is rare, and you'll see why). Oh my LORD, this story is so completely different than what I originally planned! I can honestly say now that I'm not sure how it's going to end, which is weird for me. Kind of exciting, too. I've got the next post going pretty well already, so I hope to get it up quicker. I do have a shit ton of reading to do though (seriously, women's studies? SO much reading for a class I didn't even want to take...), so I don't know exactly when I'll have time to finish it up and post. You guys are always so awesome and super understanding, but I still wanted to give you the heads-up!**

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Things had a way of changing in the morning light. Sarah blinked once, twice, three times before realizing several very important things that only the freshly risen sun could reveal.

One, she could see the sky. Either someone stole her roof overnight, or she was outside. As she was considering how exactly one would go about reporting a stolen roof to the insurance company, a chilly morning breeze made her shiver and reminded her that she was, in fact, outside.

She must have fallen asleep talking with Mike last night about his work and how he thought Reilly was right about her opening her own bakery and the logical reason why he should take two pies back with him and how much he missed her in his arms. As if on cue, Mike, still asleep, pulled her towards him for warmth. She had not even been aware of his arm draped across her waist until his grip tightened, but she would never consider complaining about a gorgeous crabber using her for some extra body heat. Especially right now. Damn, was it cold. So much for that gorgeous spring weather they'd been having. She curled her toes and flexed her fingers to make sure everything still functioned properly, which it did, but she knew she had to get inside. This temperature was much more appropriate for late fall, and the last thing she wanted was frostbite. Resigned to the fact that she'd spend the next few days nursing one hell of a cold, she stretched her free arm over her head.

"Shit," she swore as another breeze blew both the last vestiges of sleep from her mind and a coating of fresh powder onto her face. Her stretching arm had found a pile of snow. It had _snowed_. On them. As they slept. "Christ," she grumbled. "Mike."

Nothing. That man could sleep like a fucking log. She rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. "Mike, c'mon, wake up." Still nothing. "Oh, please, I know you're faking. Wake up. It snowed on us overnight." He didn't even budge, but she swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile for just half a second. "Mike, I swear!" she giggled. "Get up. Look at us! We're actually covered in snow. A solid two inches!" Okay, so that was a lie. It was barely a dusting. Their body heat kept snow from piling up on them, but the rest of the world did have about that much. "Fine, play that way," she fake pouted. "But, I'm going inside. If you follow, maybe I'll be nice enough to make you pancakes, too."

She rolled out of his arms, groaning as her knees met snow that instantly chilled her through her fleece pajama pants. As she pushed herself to her feet, Mike grinned mischievously without opening his eyes. "Blueberry?"

"Chocolate chip," she corrected. "Blueberry's only for good boys who wake up when their girl tells them they were snowed on overnight."

"Aw!" he whined, his eyes flying open. "I was _sleepy_."

"Well, I'm hungry _and _cold, and my needs clearly win in this situation," she pointed out with a laugh, brushing snow off of her sweatshirt. "C'mon, maybe we lucked out and Reilly already cooked something so I can get you to your boat early. Johnathan would be so proud of me."

But, of course, that was not the case. Not that either of them minded having the house to themselves that morning. As it turned out, a baker and a crabber could flirt doing just about anything, and making chocolate chip pancakes was about the ideal situation for them. Even though Sarah may normally have texted her sister to see what kept her out all night, that morning was different. Sarah figured that Reilly could handle herself – she was a big girl, after all – and decided instead to wage pancake warfare with Mike, making a complete mess of the kitchen and getting batter all over her face that she insisted he clean off.

She had no way of knowing, after all, that morning also showed Reilly a different world. Not one where things went from cheerfully warm to bitterly cold. One where a decision seemed so perfectly right in the evening when emotions made her raw and vulnerable only to seem so horribly wrong in the morning with the twinges of a mild emotional headache and a naked man beside you.

It never occurred to her that she would one day be thankful for a boat full of heavy drinkers, but she certainly was that morning. After playing a careful game of having to dress quickly enough to get out before Scotty noticed she was gone but not dressing too quickly to wake him, she got off the boat without waking anyone despite opening the wrong door three times. It didn't disturb any of the boat's inhabitants, as they were all far too gone to notice.

Unfortunately for her, Scotty had not been to the bar with the rest of the crew since he had been with her, and he heard the clicking of the door to Eddie's stateroom down the hall. It confused him at first to hear people moving around so early, but that was nothing compared to the confusion of waking up alone.

Then, of course, it all clicked. He leapt out of bed as fast as he could, threw some clothes on, and rushed out after her.

"Reilly. Reilly!"

She could hear him scrambling behind her, but the last thing she wanted was for Scotty to catch up. Pulling her jacket tight against the lightly falling snow fluffs, she quickened her pace. Curse her heels. Why did she have to be such a girl? The boots were perfectly fine for a warm night out, but they were not meant for a quick escape on a snowy morning.

"Dammit, Reilly! Slow down!"

Frustration bordering on anger growled in his voice. He was closer, and she knew he would inevitably win this little race of theirs. She refused to run, though. Reilly Griffin did not run.

But she did, didn't she? She had spent her whole life running from a past that no amount of distance could erase. She ran from her father to summer camps and school across the country. She ran from school to wherever the bus took her. She ran from the hospital to Dutch Harbor. And now that she finally had something, one good and real thing that she did not need to run from, well, she was running from him, too. And he would catch her and try to keep her, and she would ruin him. She would hurt him because she didn't know how not to.

The realization stopped her cold, and Scotty very nearly ran right by her. He slowed down just in time, though, and tried to turn her towards him by the shoulder. She flinched away and pulled her jacket shut even tighter like it was some sort of shield. It still could not keep out the cold, though.

"Reilly, what the hell? Where are you going?" He did not quite snap, but his agitation was apparent even through the concern in his voice.

"I…" Oh, Lord, she wanted to cry. She actually wanted to collapse in a blubbering mess for him to wrap his arms around so badly that her throat constricted and her eyes prickled dangerously. "I don't know."

Sex had always been the one thing she had total control over. Who, where, how, when. But, dammit, her chest ached when those worried Hillstrand eyes scanned her face and that callused thumb brushed away her tear. He caught her in a whirlwind, and she had no control with him. She definitely had not had control last night. Being with Scotty made her feel, pushed her to the edge. What would she do if he pushed her over? If he could make her feel that good, he could certainly make her feel that bad, that angry, or that sad, and what would she do then? Would she hurt him? Would she become her father?

"I'm scared," she admitted in a tiny voice she nearly doubted was her own.

"Shit, Reils," he breathed, anger deflating instantly at the vulnerability she let show in her quivering lip. "You think I'm not?"

But this was different, and she ducked away from the hand he reached out to her. This wasn't fear of the next step or of what last night meant. This was something much deeper rooted, a fear that moving forward would not fix. She couldn't just pretend things were all right. She wasn't Sarah. She wasn't strong.

"No, Scotty, you don't understand."

"I do, though," he assured her, lowering his head to catch her gaze with his. "I get it. I know you've been through hell. We'll go as slow as you need."

"No!" she insisted, pulling away from his hand again. "Scotty, no. I can't."

"What do you mean?"

Reilly shook her head, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "I mean…I mean that I can't, okay?" He shook his head slowly, not making sense of her. He always tried to understand her and give her the benefit of the doubt, but, this time, he couldn't wrap his head around what she was trying to say. "I can't love you, Scotty. I'm sorry."

"What?!" he exclaimed, stumbling forward to cut her off before she could back away from him. "Reilly, that's not something you get a choice in."

She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to prove him wrong. "It _is_," she insisted sternly. "I've seen a father choose not to love his two daughters. It's in my blood, Scott. It's my family's talent, and I'm using it. I'm choosing not to love you." She opened her eyes, and one tear slipped down her face. Part of him wanted to brush it away, but the rest of him couldn't get over the rush of anger for the man that fucked up this beautiful girl so badly that it tore her away from him now. "It's for your own good. I'll just hurt you in the end."

"Like you're fucking hurting me now?"

"Scotty, don't," she pleaded. But he was on a roll now, and she knew by the way his eyes flashed that he had a lot to say.

"Don't _what_? Don't make you face this? Guess what, Reils? You're gonna have to eventually, and if you don't want to hurt me, then now's the time. Because I've been screwed over a lot, and I didn't think I would ever do this again, but I'm pretty sure I love you. And I don't know how the hell that would work because my life isn't just me – I've got a son and this boat and all the bullshit for the show, and you run around for your books, and we're both _so_ fucked up. But it's something I'd be willing to do because I actually really fucking like you, Reilly." She tried to step around him, but he caught her arms in his hands, and she squeaked at the tightness of his grip. Not too tight that it hurt, but firm, like he was trying to get a message through to her. "And if last night means anything, then you like me, too. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't."

"Scotty…"

"Tell me you don't love me, Reilly."

Years on the Bering Sea could not prepare him for the strength with which Reilly yanked her arm free, reeled her hand back, and slapped him. Her palm connected solidly with his cheek, the sound echoing in silent grey morning, and sent him staggering off-balance away from her. Always the opportunist, especially when she felt cornered like this, she darted away so that, when he looked up, she was easily out of arms' reach. She had stopped, though, hand covering her mouth, eyes wide, looking just as shocked as Sarah had the day she hit Johnathan.

_Must run in the family_, he mused as he massaged his cheek. He took a step towards her – maybe to tell her it was okay, maybe to beg her to stay – but she skittered back to keep them the same distance apart.

"Just tell me the truth," he breathed. "Before I go back out to sea. Tell me honestly that you don't love me, Reilly." He knew she wouldn't even before the words came out of her mouth, but it still stung to hear them.

Her voice cracked on the words and more tears leaked out from the effort of looking at the hurt that she put in his eyes, but she forced herself to say it. For his own good, she assured herself. He could do so much better than a lost, broken doll. "I don't love you."

It broke her to say it, and that was how she knew how big of a lie it really was. She did love Scott Hillstrand. She loved how he could always find her. How he made her smile. The way he joked around with her. The light in his eyes when he laughed. How he always looked before he touched. It crushed her to see the air rush out of him at those four words, to watch him take a step away as if she had slapped him off-balance again, caught completely by surprise, not expecting her to actually do it.

She would so much rather hurt herself than hurt him. She could handle the ache in her chest at knowing she would never get to tease him again, never feel his arm around her shoulders, the warmth of his hug. At least she would never get so angry that she would try to slap him. Again. She would never through a coffee mug at his face. Never swing a knife at his face. Not that she knew she would do any of those things, but who could say she wouldn't, either? It was in her blood. If her father could do it to her, what were the odds?

She couldn't risk that.

Scotty shoved his hands into his pockets, not looking at her. She wanted him to look at her, although she didn't know why. Maybe to see that he understood, that he knew she was just protecting him from herself, from a mutation in her DNA that ruined her forever. But, he wouldn't look at her and he didn't understand. "Will you be here when I get back?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I've got signings…across the country. A-and then…um…I'm probably gonna find…somewhere else. To write about."

He nodded again. "So…I guess this is good-bye, then?"

She nodded weakly. She expected the movie good-bye where he wrapped her in his arms and smelled her hair one last time and let her cry into her shirt and held her tight and whispered good-bye in her hair and told her one last time that he loved her. Not so. Scotty took a step back, waved two or three fingers quickly, nodded and offered. "Maybe I'll see ya'round."

And it stunned her so much to see his compassion switch off so instantly that she could not even raise her hand to return the wave until after his back had already turned.


	15. Chapter 15

**I know I was really bad at responding to reviews since the last post, but I did read them and want to thank you guys for being so willing with your thoughts and comments. They always make my day! Thanks!**

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"There was a chick on this boat," Travis announced to the crew of the Time Bandit as they gathered in the wet room to suit up for the next string. All eyes shot to the veteran crabber, and he repeated himself. "There was a chick on this boat. Look." He held up the damming evidence, a tube of mascara, and waved it around when no one answered. "Who had a chick on this boat the last night in town?"

"Where'd you find that?" Eddie asked, wrinkling his nose. "You been pawing through Scotty's stuff again?"

"Woah, hey!" Scotty yelped. The guys laughed at the hit to his manhood, but Mike noticed that he seemed too defensive for someone on the wrong end of a joke. He watched Scotty out of the corner of his eye as Travis held up the tube of makeup again.

"But seriously. Don't know where it came from, but I found it on the floor. Probably got kicked around with all the waves. Don't matter. What matters is that there was a chick on this boat, and there ain't anybody here that said a damn thing about bringing a chick on this boat. So, who did it?"

"Aw, cripes, just let it go, detective," Mike laughed. "It's been a month since we were in town. It's probably just Chris's or something. We do _have _a chick on this boat regularly, remember? Way more likely it's hers than that it's been on this boat for a month and you just found it now."

Travis grinned victoriously. "I asked her. She said that…" he wrinkled his nose and checked the brand name, "Rimmel is for whores." Mike felt Scotty tense beside him, but no one else seemed to notice. "Think she was joking. Point is, it ain't hers. So, whose _is_ it? I think I know."

"Do you now?" Eddie's grin showed that he really doubted Travis's conclusion, but he crossed his arms to listen anyway. What else were they going to do until it was time to get the deck ready? Listening to a crack-pot theory was as good as anything.

"Remember our last night in town?"

"Kind of. I'm betting you don't," Eddie answered evenly. Mike snorted. Scotty stayed silent.

"I did _not_ drink that much," Travis repeated for the umpteenth time, pointing with the mascara to emphasize this fact. "We all went to the Elbow Room, right? But, I don't remember Scotty being there. I'm thinking-"

"There's a first," Eddie snorted. Travis flipped him off.

"Travis, you were drunk off your ass. Of course Scotty was there," Mike interrupted. "Sarah and I swung by, remember?" Eddie narrowed his eyes until he remembered and nodded, but Travis just stared blankly. "Of course you don't. Anyway, we stopped by so she could buy John a drink to make up for punching him," the guys snorted back laughter, "and I can tell you that Scotty was there. He just wasn't with you."

Travis narrowed his eyes. This changed everything. "But…this has to be Reilly's…"

"Man, what are you trying to say?" Scotty snapped.

Eddie finished the thought with a smirk. "I believe he just called your chick a whore, Scotty. If you wanna take a second to throw a punch, I can light my cigarette in that direction." He pointed away from Travis, but Scotty shook his head and retreated a few steps.

"She's not my chick," he mumbled. "We seriously need to stop calling them 'chicks'."

"Can we get back to what's important here?" Travis interrupted. "Make-up!" At Eddie Boy's snort, he shook his head. "Wait, I didn't mean that…"

Mike rolled his eyes dramatically. "God! Fine. On our way back from the bar, Sarah wanted to see the boat for real, not the half-ass tour you guys gave her. She probably just dropped it. I swear, nothing happened. Any luck I got happened at her place."

"Not even a _little_ happened here?" Travis asked skeptically.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not saying I didn't think about it, man. But no."

Travis laughed and clapped Mike on the shoulder as the two-minute buzzer went off. "Gotta up your game, man!"

The guys filed out on deck to prep for the string. As Mike stopped to adjust his gloves, Scott nudged his arm and motioned him towards the quite corner holding the hydraulic controls. Mike followed and let Scotty position himself at the controls in case any of the guys were watching. No need to be obvious.

"Why'd you lie for me?" Scotty asked quietly, not wanting the wind to carry his voice to the rest of the guys or the Deadliest Catch microphones that would funnel it to his dad in the wheelhouse.

Mike shrugged. "Because you've been quite and moody and kind of a douche for weeks now. Ever since last offload, I can tell something's been on your mind." Scotty looked up sharply. "I don't think anyone else has noticed. Maybe your dad or uncle, but not the guys out here. You've been playing it pretty well, but I know acting when I see it, man. And, hey, look, whatever happened that night is your thing. You don't need us being assholes about it."

Scotty nodded. "I slept with her."

"I figured."

"She told me she didn't love me and couldn't be with me."

"You believe that?" Mike asked. He thought of Sarah – of the scars on her back and the nightmares she told him about and how she could talk about drunken fathers and wedding dresses in the same evening – and could imagine how she almost pushed him away. Thankfully, he fell for the softer twin; Scotty had to deal with the hard-headed one. Mike could talk Sarah out of the insecurities and illogics her past forced into her head. He could only imagine how Reilly would dig her heels in.

"Not for a second," Scotty mumbled, fiddling with the hydros a little. "Doesn't matter what I think, though, does it?"

"Dude, of course it does!" Mike corrected, smacking Scotty's arm much to the Hillstrand's irritation. "You can't just let her get away. With what they've been through? She didn't really mean whatever she said to you; you know that. You've got to fight for her."

"It doesn't matter how fucking hard I fight," Scotty hissed. "She doesn't want me around, okay?"

"She _does_," Mike insisted. "She's just scared. Sarah was the same way. She loves you, okay? When we get back to Dutch, you gotta…I dunno…you've got to show her that she's can handle this. That's, like, their thing. They don't think they know how to be happy."

Scotty shook his head, glaring out at the water. "Nah, man, you don't get it. When the season's over, she's not even going to be in Dutch anymore."

"What?" Mike blurted out. Eddie Jr. glanced his way but went back to bait, not really all that interested in Mike's outburst. Scotty waited a few more seconds to make sure Eddie Jr. wasn't eavesdropping.

"Said she's going out to write another book. She'll be gone. Won't even give me a fucking chance to…" He forced himself to stop before he got worked up and looked at Mike with a helpless shrug. What could he do?

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Well…Sarah will talk to her."

"It won't do any good. I fucked it up between us."

"No," Mike shook his head, "you didn't. That fucking..." Mike trailed off and shared a look with Scotty. The both knew who really fucked things up between Reilly and Scotty, so Mike stopped short of mentioning the man who raised the Griffin twins. Bringing up their father would only make both crabbers mad, and neither one needed that distraction. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say right now, but we can talk later if you want. I am sort of dealing with the same shit with Sarah."

"Thanks, Mike. I might actually take you up on that."

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBT

"I just don't know," Sarah sighed into her cell phone. She leaned against the counter, flipping lazily through a binder of recipes, barely taking in the hand-written cards detailing bourbon spice cupcakes and trailmix cookies. "I hate using your money that way."

"Sarah, please," Reilly's voice crackled over the weak connection. "What am I using it for? Buy the place! If you don't, I'm just gonna get a boob job or something equally useless."

"I don't think that's ridiculous at all. Everyone knows I got the boobs for both of us."

"Shut your whore mouth."

"Just sayin'," Sarah laughed. "Hot fudge pie?"

"It's a retirement party, Sarah. No one cares what you make."

"It's a retirement party for the owner of a _bakery_, Reils. _Everyone_ cares what I make!" Sarah corrected sternly. "Hot fudge pie it is."

"Great, I'm glad we're wasting precious minutes figuring out the great pie debate." Sarah could just hear the eye-roll in her sister's voice. "I'm telling you, buy the place. Everyone knows you can run that bakery now that what's-his-name is retiring. And you've wanted your own place for how long now? This is perfect."

"But I can't afford it, Reilly."

"I'm a best-selling author, Sar. You can afford whatever the fuck you want. I….heg…ket…that."

"Ach, I think I'm losing you." Sarah wrinkled her nose at the poor cell phone service Reilly always seemed to have. "World' largest network my ass."

"Serio…ly," Reilly agreed. "Better?"

"Kinda. You're still choppy. How was Vegas?"

"Stupid. I didn't…get to stay that…one day and on to the next one, ya' know?" Sarah hummed acknowledgement, writing off the few dropped words as unimportant. "But, hey, I've got two more signings and…the next place."

"Where you thinking of going?"

"Dunno yet. Tour ends in Phildelphia, so I…just drive north, see where I end up."

Sarah licked her lips and glanced out her window at the thick grey clouds rolling over town. The forecast called for heavy snow that evening. Nothing new, of course, but she could only imagine what it was like out on the ocean in that. If it was even snowing where the Time Bandit was.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Don't judge me."

Sarah let her eyes get wide even though she had no reason to feign innocence over the phone. "Who said I was judging you? I'm not judging you! I'm watching the clouds!"

"Your voice does that thing when you're judging someone, and you just did it to me, and I don't need that."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she murmured to the window even though she absolutely did.

Reilly huffed. "That thing, that thing that _my _voice does when _I'm_ judging people."

"Oh, Reils, you're being ridiculous." Even she had to admit that her attempt to placate her sister sounded half-hearted at best.

"Look, you know I have to work. I can't just sit around waiting for him to come back. I can't sit around for anybody."

"I didn't even say anything, Reilly," she reminded her twin to no avail.

"You know I had a damn good reason for pushing him away. I'd only end up hurting him."

"Did I ever say you did the wrong thing? Who said that? Did I say that?"

"Uuuugh! You're impossible!" Reilly groaned.

"_I didn't even say anything_!"

"You don't have to. Look, I know it seems stupid, but I really think I did the right thing with Scotty."

"No, you don't. If you thought you did the right thing, you wouldn't be so defensive about it." The line crackled. Sarah pulled the phone away to see if the call dropped, but found that she was still connected to her sister across the width of Canada. "You still there, Reils?"

"You're right. I don't think that at all."


	16. Author's Note

*** Hey everyone! I just wanted to let you know I have NOT forgotten about this story. There has just been an awful lot going on in my life lately, and my writing is suffering from it. Reilly and Sarah and Scotty and Mike yell at me constantly to finish their story, but I just don't have the time. I'm slowly chipping away at a proper chapter for you, but I can't make any promises when that will be. I'm so sorry for the long wait, everyone. I really am. Thank you so much for all of your patience, and, if you can, I just ask for a little bit more. I'll get back to this as soon as I can. I miss this story and all of yours and can't wait until I have the time to do this all again. Until then. ***


	17. Chapter 17

"How does it look?"

He knew she meant the fresh coat of Mountain Air they just finished spreading on the walls, but all Mike could focus on was the splotch of that very shade of pale blue that somehow ended up right across Sarah's cheek. And all across her paints. And in her hair.

"Babe," he laughed, "you're a mess."

Sarah frowned in confusion as he ripped off a paper towel and came towards her. Obediently, she let him hold her chin to wipe the paint away, and he showed her the paper towel to reveal that he had just been cleaning her up. She rolled her eyes and waved it off.

"That's just part of painting," she dismissed. "What do you think of the color?"

Mike brushed his hands on his jeans and did a slow turn to take in the empty bakery. The last thing he thought his off-time between seasons would entail was prepping Sarah's new bakery for opening, but here they were. Personally, he could not figure out why the old white walls needed a new coat of light blue paint, but he was not the new owner and did not exactly have much of a say. When he called Sarah Christmas Day, she gave him the news that she bought the place, and he found himself offering to help her get it ready for opening before he really knew what he was doing. Something about this girl made him keep doing that, saying things before he thought them through. He normally wasn't like that…

"I like it," he decided. "It's very you."

"I think so, too." She beamed and slid her arms around his waist, which he reacted to by kissing the top of her head and hugging her to him. "Thanks again for helping me out."

"Wouldn't miss it," he confirmed. "Thanks for putting me up for the couple weeks." He took the water bottle she offered, unscrewed the cap, and handed it back for her to drink out of. "I didn't really think about where I was going to stay once I got up here."

"Like I would let you stay anywhere else. It's not like I don't have the room. Even if Reilly was here, which she isn't, I have plenty of space."

"Any idea where the next bestseller takes place?"

"Topsfield, Maine. It's got, like, 200 people in it, 230, something like that. You think it needs a second coat?"

Mike frowned at the walls. "Couldn't hurt. Did you still want to paint the counters white?"

"With evergreen tops, yup," she confirmed.

Mike rolled his eyes at 'evergreen'. Women. Couldn't just say 'dark green' like normal people. "Maine, huh? What's going on there?"

"Nothing. That's why she's there. That's the point of her books, Mike. Durh." Sarah handed him the water bottle, and he took a long drink. "Want to head home and grab some lunch before we tackle the counters?"

"Sounds like a plan. Any chance you'll let me cook?"

"I would _love_ to let you cook." She grinned as she slipped on her puffy heather grey jacket, and she tossed Mike's winter coat to him. "It'll give me time to wash the paint out of my hair."

"Aw, you should leave it in. It's sexy."

"Fuck you, Mike," she laughed.

It had never occurred to her that love could be this easy, but being with Mike was just that. Easy. It was _fun_ spending time with him, knowing right where she belonged. When the crews came back after the king season ended, she fit easily at his side. The Time Bandit boys knew her and liked her and had her back in the crowded bar, buying her drinks and keeping other men away and treating her like a sister. Like the family she never quite had. And now, having Mike wake up next to her every day in his brief stay between seasons as they got her new bakery ready to open, things felt just right. She loved having him in her kitchen, how the bathroom smelled a little more like man and a little less like flowers and sparkles and vanilla all the time, curling up with him under a blanket and debating whether or not she should consider actually buying a TV or if the NetFlix-on-her-laptop thing was good enough. This, she decided as she watched him deftly begin getting lunch together in the warmth of her kitchen, was what she wanted. Forever.

Her phone went off, so she sat down at the table to both watch him and talk. "Hello?" Mike looked up from his food to see if it was anyone important, and he could tell by the way Sarah's face lit up that it could only be one person. Reilly. "Heeey, lady! How've you been? I haven't heard from you in, like, a week!...Uh-huh?...No, nothing much. Mike and I got it painted today. We'll go back after lunch and do a second coat, probably prime the counters…Mike's making lunch right now…" She laughed, and Mike glanced over to see how she beamed when she giggled like that. Damn, he loved that smile. "No, I do _not_ have him trained; he's not a dog, Reils." Mike nodded his head and mouthed that he was, earning himself a middle finger and another smile. "So, how's the book coming? Meet any interesting people?"

And her smile vanished. He stepped back from the grilled cheeses he so carefully monitored to see what could change her mood so quickly, but Sarah turned away to lean her elbow on the table and run that hand through her hair, which he knew to be a bad sign.

"You did what? With who?...I don't give a fuck about grammar, Reils…" She rolled her eyes. "So, was it, like, a _date _date, or just a, like, a date?...Yes, there absolutely _is_ a difference! I mean, you're _working_! You can't just be dating someone while you're working! That's, like, a conflict of interest or something!" She looked at Mike frantically, but he could only offer a weak shrug as he sat down in the chair next to her. His mind was already travelling to Scotty, busy relishing in the holiday break with his son, wondering how his friend would react to news like this. He couldn't imagine that going well.

"Okay, but, well, but was it serious? Do you actually like this guy?" Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the answer, and Mike rubbed her arm in an attempt to soothe her. She flashed a quick, tight smile but did not open her eyes. However, she let out the breath she was holding. "Okay….No, it's not that, Reils, I'm just, well, I mean-…Well, yeah." She sighed heavily and opened her eyes. "Yeah, there _is_ Scotty, Reils. You told me yourself you love – Don't get like that. Yes, you did. You _did_. _Reilly_." Mike made a mental note not to cross this woman, because he could see every second of age she had over her twin in the face she just flashed at her phone. He never wanted that glare directed at him. Ever. "I just don't understand why you're going out with some other guy when you admitted that you screwed up with Scotty…No, of course I want you to be happy. That's why I'm confused. I just want you to help me understand. If you want Scott, why go on a date with this guy? How does that help?"

Sarah pursed her lips at whatever Reilly answered. "I know, sweetie. But, I think you still could. You know, he'll be up here for opies in a few weeks. You could-…Well, how long _will _you be?...You can't take two days out of your schedule?...Can you at least call?...Well, yeah, I know that, but if you can't be here in person, it's the next best thing…All right. I'll see what I can do, but it won't mean that much coming from me…I know. Just, just don't see that guy again. You do stupid things when you're lonely." Whatever Reilly said made Sarah crack a grin. "I do not!...I was 19, _you_ encouraged me, and I think it's pretty." Mike made a face, so Sarah pointed to her ankle. Right, yes, the tattoo. He flashed a thumbs-up; he thought the snowflake on her ankle was a nice touch, too. "Okay, sweetheart, call me when you can…Love you, too….Mike, Reilly says she loves you."

"Love you, too, Reilly!" he called to the phone.

"She also says not to burn lunch." Sarah pointed to the stove for extra emphasis, and Mike leapt to his feet in a flurry of curses. Right, the grilled cheese. "It's okay, babe," Sarah assured him as Reilly's laughter floated through the phone, "I like mine a little extra toasted, anyway."

* * *

**I know it's not much, but watching the first episode of the new season gave me a little inspiration (I just started the season today – my DVR is full of Deadliest Catch, ladies!). I cannot thank you enough for your patience while I'm getting my life in order, and the reviews while I'm on this little hiatus have really been wonderful. A lot of them were from guests, so I couldn't answer personally, but they all made me smile! I don't know when the next post will be, but I hope now that I'm home for the summer that I can get back into a steady rhythm of writing.**

**And, since it's been such a long time, I should take a minute to post the usual disclaimer that I this is a work of pure fiction and I am in no way associated with Deadliest Catch or Discover. I'm just writing a story. **


	18. Chapter 18

If opie prep was any indication of the season, Mike was going to have to shove Scotty overboard. The man was, to put it plainly, pouting, and Mike was about at his wit's end with it. He was tired of struggling through the work without his friend to joke around with. Where he used to be met with smiles and laughter and matching eyerolls and curses, he just found silence. A wall of nothing. Scotty was locked away in there somewhere, and it was totally ridiculous. He was hardly the first person in the world to get dumped.

Mike collapsed on the couch, plate of cake in his hand, and stared at the fireplace to stew about this recent development. He mused carefully over whether or not he could make pushing his friend overboard look like an accident or not. Probably not.

"You look mad."

Sarah's voice made him jump, and the cake nearly toppled to the ground. Nearly. Years on a crab boat gave him better reflexes than that, thankfully, and he kept hold of it. He offered her a soft smile and patted the cushion next to him for her to sit down. She folded herself up in the spot he indicated, and he wrapped his arm around her, placing the plate on his lap so he could still eat.

"Scott's being a dick."

"Notice how shocked I am."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I know. I just thought, y'know, spending the holidays with his kid and all, he'd get over it more than this."

"He loves her." Sarah shrugged. "And she was a bitch about it. I can't blame him for still being hung up on the whole thing. He'll come around. Which reminds me, I should talk to him. Would there be a good time for me to swing by the boat tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Mike mumbled before shoving cake into his mouth. "Maybe lunchtime?"

"I have electricians coming at ten," she murmured thoughtfully. "I could come after that. I made you guys cookies."

"If you bring food, you can come any time you want."

"Except for the part where I have electricians coming. Can you believe I open so soon?"

"Feels like you just bought the place." He kissed the top of her head. "Griffin's Bakery is going to be a huge hit in this town."

"It'll be the only hit in this town. Where else can they go for baked goods now?"

"They could bake their own."

Sarah smacked his chest playfully. "Thanks for the support, asshole."

"Hey, I was just answering the question! If you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked!" He laughed, and she grinned before granting him a soft kiss.

"You're an idiot," she informed him. "I love you."

"Marry me."

Sometimes, words came out of his mouth that he had no control over, and this was definitely one of those times. There was no planning, no agonizing, no _ring_, nothing. He just said it calm as day, as if he had practiced proposing a million times, when he could only truly be that relaxed about it from complete spontaneity.

Mike imagined he must have looked as surprised as she did.

"Um. Wow." Her huge eyes neglected to blink. "Okay. _Wow_."

"I didn't…um…that wasn't how…_shit_…"

"I mean, I said 'okay', so it's not…not that horrible," she breathed. "_Wow_."

"Shit."

"Did I say okay?"

"Did you?"

She frowned at him. "I think I did." She licked her lips slowly. "Yeah, no, I did."

"Did you mean it?"

Her eyes widened again as she considered this. "Yeah, yes." She finally nodded. "I did. Let's, um, let's get married. Well, not right now. I have electricians coming tomorrow."

"Yeah, I-I'm eating. We should…take time to plan it. The wedding, I mean."

"That would be good."

"Should I…" He nixed the thought. "Never mind."

"No," she nudged him, "what? Say it."

"Should I try that again?"

"Proposing? No. I mean, I answered with 'okay' like you asked if I wanted to go for a run or something. I'd say it went wrong on both ends."

"We could definitely call mulligan, do the whole thing over. No one will ever know."

Sarah finally cracked a smile. "No. I think that was perfect."

* * *

**So, in the shuffle from school back home, I threw out a shitload of papers. I think the next chapter or two were mixed up in that! Hopefully, I can whip something up for you ladies either early next week before I go on vacation or get something on paper while I'm at the beach to type up when I get home! Either way, I hope to have the next chapter up really quickly. Thanks so much for all of your patience!**


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